


A Ghost Too Far

by TheBadgeringWitness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Play, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friendship, Ghost Hunting, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Paranoia, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Romance, Slow Burn, Vomit Mention, lots of head-canons regarding world-building, tags are forewarned in Beginning Notes of relevant chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2018-04-25 09:39:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 220,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4955416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBadgeringWitness/pseuds/TheBadgeringWitness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a new DADA teacher at Hogwarts, and Peeves thinks he has a whole year of tormenting the <em>ickle newbie</em> to look forward to. Shortly after her arrival, however, he discovers that she isn’t the type to be easily scared off – or even embarrass! What’s more, the teacher’s personal research project tends to revolve around one of his favorite subjects:  himself.</p><p>She even strikes him a deal – a hex-free haunting in exchange for answering her questions. But the more he involved he gets, the more he likes her... The more he likes her, the more he’s starting to think her crazy theories about him, ghosts, and muggles’ latent powers aren’t quite so crazy…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Weird Welcome

It had been roughly five years since the Battle of Hogwarts, he supposed. Five straight years of having a singular teacher in a position that had previously been jinxed by ol’ Moldy Voldy himself was apparently a _smidge_ too long for the old poof in the D.A.D.A .chair. He just _had_ to spoil Peevesy’s fun by taking a year off for “research”; it was too bad, really, because Peeves loved to mess around in that old codger’s office. It was especially fun when said codger would throw hex after curse at him and try to keep him out with varying kinds of wards, only to find that nothing worked. He was almost going to miss the coot.

On the upside of it all, there _would_ be a fresh face on the teacher’s table to torment this year. Screams and tears of frustration were the best coming out of the mouths of babes.

According to Sir Desperately-Wishes-He-Was-Headless Nicky, the substitute would be arriving sometime tomorrow, which gave ample time for Peevesy to plant something fun in the unoccupied office and brew various kinds of plans for every vague personality type a D.A.D.A. teacher could have.

His plans were interrupted in an appropriately rude fashion, however, when he heard the distinct sounds of Hogwarts’ front door open. Really, there was no missing the huge creaky bang that liked to echo throughout the castle, but it was highly unusual for the time of night. Few teachers came back to school this early in the week; the Headmistress Kitty-Cat liked to sleep early, and Filthy Filch never left the school at all…

Curious and excited, Peeves zipped off to get a glimpse of who it was before he would retreat to get his water balloons.

A tall woman wearing a pair of very old-fashioned sunglasses and a black trench-coat strode in through the threshold, accompanied by Professor Trelawney and a large black umbrella that hovered in mid-air.

“I did _try_ to tell Headmistress McGonagall that you would be early, my dear, but that woman can be _very_ stubborn about the workings of the Inner Eye,” the professor said loftily as she shifted her thick spectacles up on her nose. “Goodness knows the poor dear is sleeping about now; she’s been looking peaked for weeks but won’t say what the fuss is about, and using my Inner Eye to find out would feel like an invasion of privacy... Good thing I decided to risk the journey down to the pub anyways, wouldn’t you say?”

The stranger gave a grin as she gestured the umbrella to shake itself off in the hallway with a flick of her fingers, her voice carrying no trace of the usual British ancestry the occupants at Hogwarts tended to have. “I would _definitely_ say so, Sybille _._ It’d be lonely to walk up that huge hill myself, and I have yet to discover the secret to steadily hovering oneself over a distance,” she joked as she leaned to one side, quickly rubbing her short hot-pink hair with both hands, splattering the stone floor and a nearby suit of armor with water. “That carriage could’ve done with fewer holes in its roof, but it’s really my own fault for not double-checking the date on my letter. Should’ve known better than to think I was right about times; I swear jet-lag is going to be the death of me!” The pink-haired woman said with a laugh, seemingly ignoring the somewhat bewildered look on Trelawney’s pink face.

“Ah, of course, of course… I believe your office is connected to the classroom, yes, and that should be on the first floor, you’ll know it immediately; the classroom has a huge dragon skeleton in it, it’s been there for years now, don’t quite know _where_ it came from… Is there anything else I can help you with, my dear?” Trelawney looked just then as if she would very much like the answer to be ‘no’.

The pink-haired woman just continued to grin almost maniacally, her small, round sunglasses reflecting the candlelight as she stared the seer down. “Yes, but that can wait. I’ve got a full year here to pester you with questions, after all, no need to do it all in one day. Thank you very much for your help, Sybille,” she said in a slightly greasy tone as she flicked her wand at the heavy trunks in the doorway and gave the seer’s hand a quick little shake, “Just so long as everyone knows I arrived in one piece, we can part ways for tonight.”

Sybille gave a little nod, a half-hearted smile, and a ‘welcome’ before she shuffled off, heading towards the kitchens for what was undoubtedly her fifth or sixth nightcap. Peeves could just barely hear her muttering about ‘foreigners’ and ‘death omens’.

That didn’t quite matter, though. What _did_ matter was that the little substitute had totally messed up his plans! Now the poltergeist had to think on the fly – not like he was bad at it, but _still_ – and he had no at-the-ready weapons aside from his incredibly well-hidden chest of water balloons and the odd suit of armor in the halls. He could do something simple, like throw the rug out from under her (that was always a classic)…but it was too _simple_. No, no, he’d have to come up with something special for the giant newbie.

He flew down the hallway and up through the D.A.D.A. classroom floor, floating through the poor excuses for wards with no trouble at all. He tapped his chin thoughtfully with his fingers, his mind whirling with ideas of varying degrees of danger. Perhaps this was an occasion where he should study the target and figure out their weaknesses first, to give the best personalized welcoming possible.

Peeves hated waiting, but he knew in the long run it would be worth it.

It wasn’t long before the strange woman found her new classroom, opening the door with a loud creak as she beckoned her floating luggage to follow her inside. The largest trunk - a brown and rather beaten-up looking case that could have easily doubled as a desk - opened itself as she lit candles in the heavy iron chandelier with a flick of her wrist; from his view from the ceiling, Peeves noticed the tip of her wand poking out from her sleeve. Just as the door shut behind her, the witch retrieved a strange little plastic box from the pocket of her muggle coat and pressed the bright red button on top of it, letting the thing hover beside her head as she sorted through the enormous trunk, and began to talk.

“August twenty-seventh, two-seventeen A.M.; I’m finally inside of Hogwarts Castle after an okay flight on the English Airlines. I met a rather strange woman by the name of Sybille Trelawney in the pub of the neighboring village. Emphasis on ‘strange’, by the way; she teaches Divination, of all things, and claimed she saw that I would arrive early and went to the pub to greet me,” she gave a snort of disbelief. “She already had three glasses of brandy by the time I arrived, and had another two glasses of wine with me as we chatted away with introductions. She was a little hesitant about talking to me at first, seems I threw her off of her expectations of what a Defense teacher should look like... Must be the hair,” she smirked to herself as she unrolled a rather large painting of a Chinese Fireball on a scroll, which shook out its head and blew out curly smoke from its nostrils as it appeared. “Apparently she’s the great-great-granddaughter of Cassandra, so I think that she may prove to be useful… Now that I think of it, wasn’t it her who made the prediction about Harry Potter and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named years ago? I can’t remember; it’s been a while since that story came out… I think I’ll call on her tomorrow for tea, perhaps see what the house-elves in the kitchens can cook up so I can get my foot in the door. Sometime in the future, though, I’d like to ask if she’d ever been possessed. Far too early in our budding friendship to talk about that tomorrow, but maybe things will go more smoothly than I expect, you never know.”

The tall woman had brought out several large tanks as she spoke, one filled with tiny water demons, another few with a variety of rather nasty looking little fish (some with huge spikes in place of fins, and others with rather poisonous looking colors), and the last one filled with a dark smoky-looking substance. A nicely-sized cabinet with stain-glass doors set in polished cherry wood came after the tanks, books of all different sizes sliding around merrily on the shelves as it was floated into the corner between the window and the teacher’s desk.

“Shit, I’ll have to organize those later; the damn things won’t stay still in there no matter what sticking charm I use. I swear I’ll curse that puny chick who sold it to me…  You know, I can’t help but notice that my predecessor, Professor Bartlett, has a large amount of wards covering this room,” with a wave of her wand, the second-floor office door flew open, “as well as the office. No, wait, I take that back, some of them aren’t his; they have a different magical signature, they’ve faded a lot. Not that it matters, some of these keep out things that shouldn’t touch castle grounds as it is, so it’s rather pointless. I didn’t think Mr. Bartlett was so _paranoid_ , I mean, these things are designed to trap dark-magic users, I figured people would relax a little! It’s been five years since the Battle of Hogwarts, there’s only so many ‘dark wizards’ left in Britain… Not to mention, the storage cupboard over there seems to have even more.  Oh, what the _fuck_ \- there’s at least _ten!_ Some of these are _duplicates!_ What the hell was that guy _on?_ ”

The pink-haired witch’s nose wrinkled in disgust as Peeves had taken to bearing a rather wicked grin at the turn of conversation. “I’m surprised the Headmistress let him do it, but I’m _more_ surprised that this guy didn’t think to use anything else but Latin-based wards! No doubt kids got headaches from walking by the damn cupboard, with this many things... Guess I’ll just have to use the other cupboard for extra supplies…” Another cupboard - this one sporting clear glass and a very polished oak finish - drifted from the giant trunk and set itself gently near the storage room, followed by a flurry of parchment, bottles of ink, quills, boxes of chalk, magical erasers and what seemed to be muggle pens and thin notebooks, all of which were directed to stack themselves neatly on the shelves.

With a grand wave of her wand (and opposite hand, as if she were conducting a very short musical note), the student’s desks, which had previously been so neatly put into rows, shoved themselves rather noisily to the sides of the room until they were stacked on top of one another, some with only two legs touching the floor. The witch grinned to herself again, saying “never get tired of that,” off-handedly to herself as she brought out a very large oriental rug, the little imp-like figures knit into the design squirming around the vines and flowers as she unfurled the grand carpet; the large emerald-green rug seemed to cover the majority of the floor where the student’s desks had been, and with a few mutters under her breath, it stuck straight.

“Well, I’ve at least got the basic stuff for the classroom down now. I’m surprised the floor is so clean, but Trelawney did mention something earlier about a disgruntled janitor, it might have been him. How weird, I didn’t think they’d have someone like that stay the whole summer… Then again, I suppose it makes sense; Hogwarts has a huge amount of ghosts, unlike Bayard, and I have no doubt some of the ones here like to be mischievous,” Peeves snickered a little into his hand, feeling gleefully prideful; the witch didn’t seem to hear him, for she kept busying about in the living quarters now, directing numbered binders to bookshelves and throwing clothes into the wardrobe, “Bayard’s ghosts were real party-poopers – see tape 24 – but I heard Hogwarts’ ghosts actually _enjoy_ talking to you. According to _Hogwarts:  A History_ , there’s spirits that have been here since the early _1000’s_. You can’t tell me that isn’t research _gold_. I know our loony Lonny would’ve killed to be in my place. Note to self:  write a detailed gloating letter about the castle to Lonny after classes start. And on a separate note, I think I’ll stroll by the Astronomy Tower tomorrow as well, I’m curious if the rumor about those bloodstains is true… For the rest of the evening, I think I’ll finish off that delightful book on the millennium-era psychics. Half of that damn thing is complete guess-work, and the whole theory behind the supposed outbreak of psychics is ridiculous, but it’s not entirely worthless.  See tape 39, to follow.”

The red button of the plastic thing hovering near the witch’s head popped up with a loud click. The pink-haired woman placed it down next to the oil lamp on the bedside table as she literally jumped on the springy mattress of the queen-sized four-poster bed, paying no mind to taking off her shoes, bouncing once, thrice, and then landing with a springy _plop_ in the middle, a deep chuckle escaping her. The luggage suddenly dropped to the floor with a rattle; the witch paid no mind, taking out a somewhat ratty paperback from her trench coat pocket and pulling out a mint-green cardboard coaster from between the pages. Clothes were now hanging haphazardly from the smaller of the trunks and something made of glass had fallen out of another. The witch muttered a half-hearted _reparo_ as she turned the page, but otherwise there was no sign that she would do anything but lay there, her little sunglasses still sitting squarely on the bridge of her nose.

Peeves, now bored with the lack of the witch’s blabbering, decided that it would be fun to at least fiddle with the hinges holding up the cabinet doors in the classroom.

*~*~*~*~*

Shortly after dawn, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall knocked sharply on the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office with her head held high, a pointed look on her face as she waited for her new professor to greet her. There was a loud startled snort and a groan from within, no doubt from the adjacent bedroom, followed by the tell-tale sound of springs creaking and something crashing to the floor, accompanied by several disgruntled mumbles. It took a minute before the heavy wooden door finally swung open.

It was not at all what McGonagall had expected. The Headmistress remembered her new professor being rather young looking (just _barely_ passing for thirty) and having sleeked-back brown hair and dark purple robes during the interview. Instead, the messy short pink spikes for hair and muggle clothing, which it appeared the young lady had slept in, now reminded her a little of Tonks. Except she knew Tonks would never wear a suit, nor the little round sunglasses that currently covered the younger professor’s eyes.

“Good morning,” the younger witch gave a tired smile as she bowed her head in respect, her voice very groggy. “It’s nice to see you again, uh…” The woman tapped her index finger on the doorframe as she quietly struggled for a name.

“Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Minerva recited with a taut smile and a firm handshake. “I’m sorry I did not see you in last night, Miss Flemming, I did not receive word of your arrival until this morning. I was glad to know that Professor Trelawney escorted you safely to the castle; I’m sure she’s double-checked your credentials.”

 The woman leaned one arm against the doorway with a crooked grin on her face. “You know, it’s rather funny. I tried to show her my credentials when I met her in the Three Broomsticks – completely by surprise, by the way – I pulled out a copy of my teaching license and everything, but she just waved it away and told me that her ‘Inner Eye’ already knew who I was and that I would be a day early. And you can call me Dandrane if you’d like, Headmistress. You’re more than welcome to have a peek at the license yourself, if you don’t mind waiting a few moments.”

“If you would, please,” Minerva nodded, following her inside and watching from the doorway as the young woman strolled back into her bedroom, heading right for a darkly-colored alligator purse and tossing out the contents onto the mattress:  a muggle wallet; a silver coin-purse; a large black umbrella with a chrome handle in the shape of a dragon’s head; an old hand-held mirror; a book whose title was unreadable from Minerva’s angle; what seemed to be another handbag, with a large red cross sewn into it; a rather sizable knife in a leather sheath; a bright orange lump of thick string; a muggle passport; a heavy-looking lockbox the size of several textbooks put together (this took Dandrane two hands to pull out); an acid-green quill tethered to a little book; and finally, an orange scarf that seemed to be bunched up rather tightly. The young witch turned the bag upside down, and when she nothing else came out, she paused, seeming to stare at the large pile of her possessions.

“Oh, _of course_ ,” she laughed to herself as she tossed the handbag among the pile. She reached inside the pocket of her trench coat (which had been strewn over the end of her bed), patting her hand around for a few seconds until she retrieved a thin blue tube. A grin stretched over her face as she walked back to the door and popped off the lid, pulled out a roll of paper, and proudly held it out to Minerva.

Once glance at it was all McGonagall really needed; the magical signatures shining up at her from the bottom of the page in bright blue ink were solid proof. “Well, everything seems to be in order, then, Professor Flemming. I’ll expect a final brief of your lesson plans on my desk by Saturday, unless you are planning on using the lesson plans Professor Bartlett left you to a tee,” the Headmistress said formally as she handed over a small day-planner. “He was also so kind as to write quite a few pages of general advice for you; it seems he was a little worried his younger replacement wouldn’t be able to figure things out quick enough. Admittedly, he does make a few good points – particularly the one about avoiding the first-floor’s bathrooms.”

Dandrane flicked over some of the pages, her expression blank; it might have been easier to tell what she was thinking if she weren’t wearing her shades. “I see,” she nodded, snapping the book shut. “Well, I will take Bartlett’s advice into consideration, but for now I’ll just tweak the plans I brought with me a bit,” she said as another smile spread on her face; Minerva got the distinct impression that young woman was internally laughing at some sort of private joke. “Speaking of, I hope I didn’t interrupt your plans this morning, Headmistress. I was going to have a word with you later on, when I was more, uh, _composed_. Usually that requires three cups of coffee, and I only have enough instant expresso left for two.”

“It’s quite alright, my schedule won’t be that strict until the start of term. During the term, breakfast takes place in the Great Hall, but for now I would advise you to visit the kitchens and speak with the house-elves. The stairs are on the right side of the marble staircase on the ground floor; you’ll have to tickle the pear in the painting of a bowl of fruit to gain access. My own office is reached by going down the empty corridor on this floor, but it’s actually situated on the fourth floor; the password for the gargoyle is ‘galloping gurgles’.”

“Ah, right, I read about that…” The pink-haired witch tilted her head up to the ceiling, as if she could see through the floors and into the office. “Thank you.”

“I’ll bid you good morning then, Dandrane.”

“Yes, good morning, Headmistress.” The younger witch bowed her head a little deeper this time with a friendly smile and waited until Minerva was halfway down the hall to close the door.

*~*~*~*~*

Peeves was _bored_. It was close to September, but he couldn’t bother to get excited about it yet; as soon as more people were around to toy with, it would be like drinking a half a shot of expresso. For now, what energy he had obtained during the previous school year was being conserved.

He had a spot of fun drawing mustaches on many a snoozing magical painting during the night, which had become _especially_ fun when the Fat Lady had woken up and shrieked when she saw herself in her handheld mirror, but now Peeves was just floating around the base of the North Tower, hoping that someone would come by so he could throw some crystal balls he had, as he put it, ‘commandeered’.

He hoped it was Trelawney – that bug-eyed, batty wretch deserved to have the future chucked at her, especially when she was still hidden away in her quarters in the early afternoon, with only the occasional wisp of rather pungent incense coming from her door to prove that she was awake. It would be too easy to just float up to her room and do it, so he decided to not bother unless she stepped out.

Footsteps drew him out of his thoughts, and he quickly shot himself into a nearby suit of armor, causing it to rattle in place just as the newbie professor strode by, her short pink hair styled into a fauxhawk. She turned her head in his direction, a dark brown eyebrow raised, and he could feel her gaze on him even through her little sunglasses. The corner of her mouth twitched into a little smile and she began to climb the stairs of the tower, now whistling a vaguely familiar tune as a silver platter followed her in mid-air.

The ickle newbie really _was_ going to visit the blind-as-a-bat seer, just as she said she would the night before. He just might get some good dirt on the too-tall tyke – or it’d be a good opportunity to use the older witch as fodder for his introduction. Either way, it promised something interesting.

He followed her up the stairs (invisible, of course), forcing down the temptation to knock the tray out of the air. It would do no good to be a _loud_ spy, after all.

Trelawney had shuffled to the door with a rather tired look; she seemed to have no mood for company… Well, until the newbie revealed she had brought a rather large treacle cake “as a thank you gift” – then the pathetic excuse for a seer ushered her in, summoning an extra tea-cup and a large hideous pink pouf for her guest.

They exchanged boring pleasantries, though Peeves quickly discovered that the new professor (whose name was apparently Dandrane Flemming; _Phlegmy_ sounded like a good nickname to him) was deliberately buttering up the elder witch, off-handedly mentioning an interest in divination and giving a little sigh at “the fact that [her] inner eye was not up to snuff at all, [her] tarot readings lately were all _over_ the place”. Peeves was just debating on whether or not to pick up the teapot and pour its contents all over the newbie’s head at the mention of ‘psychic powers’ when the conversation took a far more interesting turn.

“Oh, that reminds me, Sybille, I was going to ask you yesterday evening – is it true that there’s a poltergeist somewhere in the castle?”

The older witch looked over the rim of her teacup, her buggy eyes bulging out even further. “P-poltergeist? My dear girl, whatever brought _that_ up?”

Dandrane sipped her own tea (filled with no less than four sugar cubes and a tonof milk), pointedly ignoring the befuddled look on the seer’s face. “Since I decided to use my time at the castle to do a little research into the subject of spirits, I’d figured I’d see if the rumor about a poltergeist living here was true. I thought I would ask you, since you have the most open mind to other realms,” she gave the other witch a charming smile. “It’s just… There are very few studies in the wizarding world on ghosts, you know? We only know so much about them scientifically, despite them being all over the world. I’m afraid Bayard’s School of Magic had only _two_ ghosts, and they preferred to wallow in their own misery rather than speak to anyone,” she gave a chuckle at this and stabbed a piece of cake with her little fork.

“Ah, I see, I see… Well, you’re in luck, my dear, Hogwarts is crawling with ghosts, and most of them do love to prattle on to anyone who listens… I’m sure you’ve heard that our History of Magic professor is a ghost, too, yes? I, of course, have spoken to several of the spirits here, but none them can properly answer _my_ questions, they don’t know the Inner Eye, you know,” Trelawney sniffed haughtily, “They might be able to tell you a great deal about the castle and some history, but few like to talk about their own manner of deaths.”

“Yes, the Bayard ghosts had a tendency to permanently shun anyone who was bold enough to ask about that,” Dandrane gave a rather lopsided grin, “It’s funny, really, muggles have a lot of fun stories involving spirits, sometimes I wonder if it really isn’t just magical people that turn into ghosts. I was once in a muggle hospital when I was ten, and there was a _very_ unruly ghost there, it loved to toss plates and fiddle with the machinery on the fifth floor, as well as mess up some of the nurses’ paperwork. One of the patients nearly suffered a heart attack because it screwed around with a machine. My dad told me it was a poltergeist, but…” she paused to stuff a rather large bite of cake in her mouth, chewing slowly. From Trelawney’s point-of-view, it seemed that the younger professor was thinking something over. Peeves, however, could see the very pale eyes from the side of the younger witch’s face – she was just baiting the seer some more. The pink-haired woman pointed her fork in the elder woman’s direction, talking with her mouth partially full. “This is just between you and me…”

Trelawney nodded, her eyes a little wider than normal.

“I believe my dad was _wrong_.”  

“ _Wrong_?” Trelawney had set her cup down with a light clatter.

“Yes.”

Trelawney looked rather disbelieving. “Are you quite sure, my dear? I mean, run-of-the-mill ghosts can’t pick up objects; they can barely influence their surroundings! It certainly _sounds_ like - ”

“It wasn’t. You know how I know?” The icy blue eyes behind the dark lenses were dancing with mirth. “I stayed in that hospital for three days. I’d seen a few ghosts before then, when my dad took me to visit my godmother and her husband, they lived near a cemetery; muggles seem to have a very hard time seeing them, and most can’t even sense their presence, even when they’re right behind them. Aunty Gladdis had no idea that there were ghosts wandering through her garden at night and going on about how horrible she was at caring for tomatoes. In my _entire_ time at the hospital, I never once saw the spirit’s semi-physical form or heard the thing speak, which is highly unusual for a spirit of _any_ kind. I did notice that there was a muggle teenager on that floor, though. He’d been in a coma for a week, some kind of nasty car accident.”

At this point, Dandrane knocked back the rest of her tea, pouring a fresh cup by hand as Trelawney blubbered. “Do you mean to say that the spirit was some kind of…living ghost? Of a _muggle boy_?”

“Kind of,” the young witch answered nonchalantly as she piled more sugar cubes into her cup. “I don’t think it was a matter of becoming some kind of temporary ghost or something. I think he was projecting his body’s extra energy outward, all controlled by his emotional state, which would explain why things were violent on that particular floor. The muggles describe what you refer to as a ‘living ghost’ as _astro-projection_ ; all my research into it has told me that those who are supposedly able to astro-project cannot interact with our own reality, so he wouldn’t have been able to touch anything that way. So I stand by my theory.”

Trelawney sat back in her chair. “Oh, my dear, dear girl, I _do_ believe you’re forgetting something.”

Dandrane blinked in response. “Oh?”

“Poltergeists can become invisible. And trust me, Dandrane, dear, I know from experience - if they find something entertaining enough in one place, they’ll stick to it like _glue_.”

Seizing the opportunity to be right on cue, Peeves kicked a nearby crystal ball right at their table, where it broke Trelawney’s teacup and bounced into the teapot, shattering it. The poltergeist gave a great cackle as the tea poured out all over the tablecloth and onto the floor as the sphere rolled away from the table. “Don’t flatter yourself, Sybsy!” He called out, and laughed harder as the seer’s expression twisted into an embarrassed, angry scowl.

Still invisible, he flew himself backwards through the wall, causing the decorative plates that hung there to rattle harshly. He lingered just long enough to hear Dandrane comment in an amused voice, “Well, at least that answered my question.”

*~*~*~*~*

Dandrane Flemming had left the little tea party in a wonderful mood. She had, naturally, fixed the teapot and matching cup, apologizing for the chaos that had ensued, though Trelawney had been insistent that it had been her fault entirely. While her antagonizing of the poltergeist _had_ been the seer’s fault, Dandrane always found it helped to shift the blame in this kind of situation. _“No, Sybille, really – if I hadn’t been talking about such things willy-nilly he wouldn’t have overheard and interrupted like that.”_

Still, she was glad it didn’t permanently ruin things. She had, of course, taken extra care to tell Sybille that this was a very enlightening chat, and that she looked forward to talking about theories with such an accomplished seer again. Trelawney, not used to such flattery, was in much higher spirits after that, and bid Dandrane farewell with an assurance that _of course_ they would chat again, she had known it since the young lady had walked up the stairs to her office.

It had taken her a lot of self-control not to snicker aloud.

For now, though, the young professor stood examining the staircase to the Astronomy Tower, popping out the warm cassette tape in her magically-run recorder. She scribbled “8/21/03, Int. w/ Trelawney” on the label before retrieving a fresh tape from her robes, hastily writing a “39” on it before pressing start on the recorder again.

“August twenty-seventh. I’m at the base of the Astronomy Tower; I’ve cast a silencing charm around so no one will hear me speak my mind out here. I just met Hogwarts’ poltergeist; Sybille says his name is _Peeves_. I find that rather hilarious – did he name himself, or did someone else christen him, and he liked it so much that he decided to keep it? I’ll have to ask him that when I get a decent chance. He made a racket on the tape I used to record Sybille’s little chat with me, I know all you can probably hear is crashing, but he hurled a crystal ball straight into the teapot! It smashed up Sybille’s teacup rather spectacularly, got shards of china _everywhere_. What’s even funnier is he made a quip at her, perfectly timed and everything! She’s apparently had a lot of run-ins with him before; according to her, he takes it as his job to torment students and staff for fun. What I’m really surprised at is that the rumor about his existence was actually _true!_ I’ll have to tell Lonny, he’ll laugh his ass off…

“Anyway, I’m searching for those mysterious bloodstains, and it figures, there’s nothing here. Who _did_ I hear that silly rumor from, anyway? Those bloodstains were supposed to never come-”

Dandrane paused, her eyes catching something on the floor. “I take that back. There are bloodstains here… They’re rather faint. It’s not on the wall, like the rumor said, though… They’re kind of hidden underneath the carpet on the floor,” she nudged the carpet with the tip of her wand, muttering a counter-jinx under her breath until the rug moved, revealing more dark stains. “Someone seems to have cleaned the carpet, but I guess they were too late for the floor… Or they were just lazy. How very strange… Supposedly these bloodstains were caused by a Death-Eater that had been wounded. I heard that werewolf blood is very hard to get rid of, weren’t one of the Death-Eater’s werewolves? Then again, I also heard that this was blood left behind of a student that took their own life in the castle years ago… Guess I’ll have to look into _all_ of the ghosts of the castle, see if there are any that remember something like that. Either way, this looks more like someone had accidentally stabbed their hand rather than slit their wrists; the amount of blood suggests it was stopped before too much could get out. I doubt someone died from it.”

The witch shut off the recorder, and was about to put it away when a thought struck her:  what _did_ she get on the tape from the tea party? Muggle ghost hunters had some rare tapes of spirits talking, but they were always so gargled that it sounded more like nonsense than actual words of any kind. Did she get any of Peeves’ voice on tape, or would it be just like muggle tapes? She shoved the tape of the interview with Trelawney back in, rewound for a few minutes, and played it back, fast forwarding through some of their earlier conversation.

She pulled the recorder close to her ear, even though it was unnecessary – the crash of the broken teapot was rather loud. And there, a little quiet because of the distance between the recorder and the poltergeist, was his insane cackle. His voice resounded off the walls as he gleefully taunted Sybille. It was a higher pitch that most people would describe as ‘annoying’, but for the moment Dandrane could think of no other voice as wonderful.

Dandrane hummed _That Haunting Melody_ the whole way back to her office with an excited smile on her face. _There’s no way this day could get any better._

To her utter delight, it _had_. Not only had she found a cryptic letter of warning from Professor Bartlett on her classroom’s desk telling her not to remove the wards because of “disgusting creatures that lurk around the castle like they owned the place”, but the stain-glass cupboard doors fell off and smashed spectacularly when she tried to open them, as if someone had severely loosened the hinges.

Propping her feet up on the old oak desk, the pink-haired witch flicked through Bartlett’s course outlines with a satisfied grin, picking over the hastily-scribbled notes he had left for her in the corners of the day-planner, only highlighting and dog-earing the ones she found useful.

> _There’s a trick stair on the grand staircase, watch out for it…_
> 
> _Always knock on the classroom doors before trying to open them; some aren’t real doors at all!_
> 
> _Avoid the bathrooms on the first floor if you can, there’s a dreadful ghost called Moaning Myrtle that loves to do nothing but wail in there…_
> 
> _Don’t be afraid to talk to the Bloody Baron, I know he looks terrifying, but he’s the only one can exercise any sort of control over Peeves. I don’t know why he doesn’t listen to **me** … _
> 
> _Don’t be too soft on the students; the Slytherin house is deemed ‘cunning’ for a reason._
> 
> _It’s okay to add more wards, if you can think of any new ones, that is…_
> 
> _For the love of Merlin – DO **NOT** insult Peeves!!!_

*~*~*~*~*

The first-floor girl’s lavatory was far more decrepit than anything else in the castle. Normally the combination of house-elves and Filch made every room in the place look as close to new as possible, but of course the mess was blamed on Myrtle. Not like it was _her_ fault that people didn’t like her crying while they worked or sat on the can.

It had been sixty years since she died, and she had been stuck in the school for almost twenty since Myrtle was forced to return to Hogwarts. The only good that came from it all was tormenting Olive Hornby, and once _she_ had broken down at her brother’s wedding and ran straight to the Ministry, the game was over. Now there was just miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle, all by herself, with the only solace in her afterlife being that her killers were dead. Some days (though admittedly fewer since Harry Potter had first visited her) she wished the Ministry had found a way to exorcise her.

So there she was, sitting on a u-bend half-daydreaming and half-crying about what it might be like to really die, just getting to the lovely thought of never having to endure someone calling her “Pimply” again when the bathroom door creaked open.

Myrtle stopped sniveling at once, straining her ears for any sounds of real life. 

Real, honest-to-god footsteps! Was it really September already?

She floated up and peeked over her usual stall at the end of the row, hoping to catch at least a glimpse of the visitor, shutting down the tiny hope that it would be Draco or Harry paying her an overdue visit.

A pretty woman with short hot-pink hair that pointed upward from the middle of her head stood near the sinks, looking right at her. Or at least she seemed to – her little black glasses made it impossible to see where her eyes were actually looking.

“Excuse me,” she said with an air of politeness, “are you the one they call ‘Moaning Myrtle’?”

“ _They_? Who’s _they_?”

“Specifically, Professor Bartlett. I don’t know if you met him or not - he was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for the past four years.”

Myrtle remembered him; he had gone to boy’s bathroom a few times out of desperation. “What do you mean _was_?”

“Forgive me; I haven’t introduced myself, have I? I’m Professor Flemming,” she said with a little bow and a small smile on her perfectly-painted-red lips, “I’m acting as Professor Bartlett’s replacement for this year, since he’s currently researching in India.”

Myrtle folded her arms across her chest, eyeing the strange woman with scrutiny. “What do you want?”

“I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind. They’re mostly regarding Hogwarts.”

“Well then,” Myrtle settled on the door’s rim, choosing to look down at the weirdly dressed witch rather than get on her level. “Come to ask me about the great Battle? Or perhaps how I helped Harry Potter discover the Chamber of Secrets?”

Professor Flemming leaned against the frame of an opposite stall, crossing her arms while she held her gaze. “No, actually, _The Quibbler_ answered all the questions I had about those subjects several years ago. I came to ask about you,” she said plainly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “For example, how long have you been at Hogwarts?”

Myrtle narrowed her eyes. No one asked those questions without leading things into ‘so how did you die’ territory. “About twenty years.” _Come on, ask me what you really want already!_

“I see… Can you visit other bathrooms, or are you limited to this one?”

For the first time since she discovered she had become a ghost, Myrtle was dumbstruck. When the witch’s expression did not waver, she answered. “I can travel anywhere I want to.”

Professor Flemming tapped her chin in thought, examining the other cubicles across from her. “So you’re not limited to the pipes?”

“No, but I have been through them, they all come out at the Black Lake.”

The witch snapped her head up at her. “Do you mean you willingly traveled through the pipes to the lake, or were you forced through the pipes?”

Myrtle stared in disbelief. This was the weirdest conversation she ever had. She was almost used to invasive questions, but not like _this_. “ _Forced_. It’s not like I _want_ to be flushed down the toilet, you know.”

“Can you move while you’re in the pipes?” Professor Flemming was looking at Myrtle with an air of excitement, reminding the ghost vaguely of the poltergeist when he found her bawling. _Those_ instances were usually followed by a slew of insults, a reminder that she died an acne-ridden greasy-haired teenager, and an even longer crying session.

“Want to go for a _swim_ , do you? Think it’d be _fun_ to go down the toilet?!” Myrtle snarled, zipping towards the witch until they were nearly nose-to-nose. “Maybe you’d like to be dragged in _head first_?” She swiped her hand through the witch’s head, keen on seeing her flinch. The woman remained still, her expression impassive, the black lenses of her little glasses staring straight at her. Myrtle could see her reflection – her spotty, lanky-haired, _depressing_ reflection.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Professor Flemming said in a calm, steady voice, bowing her head before she spun on her heel to leave. “Good morning, Myrtle.”

Myrtle wailed as she flew through the witch one last time before diving into the nearest toilet, managing to watch the professor stride out the door with no indication that she had felt a thing.

*~*~*~*~*

Dandrane lazily strolled down the third floor hallway, her mind rushing through the events in the bathroom. She had felt sorely tempted to just whip out her recorder and finish off yesterday’s tape on the way back to her room; it seemed a wiser idea to just wait until she was in her warded, _soundproofed_ room to spout off theories.   _I didn’t think that chick would be so temperamental about it. It’s not like she’s_ bound _to the toilet. Wasn’t she wearing the Ravenclaw crest, too? She’s had twenty years of living at Hogwarts, is she not the curious type or something?_

It was early afternoon, but the hallway was lit by large torches, as the only windows were on far ends of the hall and inside the south-facing rooms. Somehow, the pink-haired witch was so distracted that she didn’t realize that the torches she passed had snuffed out not a moment after she walked by them. She stopped her stride in mid-thought, still staring somewhat dazedly ahead with a hand on her chin when the torches down the last of the hallway snuffed out in rapid succession. All that was left was the faint light from the window at the end of the hall; other than that, the professor was shrouded in darkness.

Then, there was a very odd noise, like the rustling of a lot of fabric. Dandrane took one look at the wave of carpet coming to her and bolted for the nearest door, ducking into the doorway seconds before the giant piece of fabric rolled its way down the hall, causing a muffled thud when it hit the corner moments later.

The young woman felt herself suddenly pushed backwards into the dark room, the door slamming shut in front of her. A wordless _Lumos Maxima_ later and she realized she must be in one of the unused classrooms.  An all-too-familiar scratching noise made her look at the blackboard.

‘Hey Phlegmy!’ was underlined, the piece of chalk hovering in mid-air for a moment before dropping.

Not seconds later, the far front-corner cluster of desks began to shift towards her with the horrible scraping sound of creaky wood on stone, moving slowly, only a few at a time, until suddenly a great pile of the desks were shoved towards her all at once by one invisible force. Dandrane, eyes wide behind her darkened lenses, took a step back and held out her wand further, prepared to put up a barrier between herself and the wave of desks, her heart racing as she sorted through her mental library of useful spells against whatever was in the room with her.

“ _Immobulus!_ ” She commanded, and instantly the desks all froze in place a yard away from her; she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears, but she did her best to ignore it and focus on her surroundings. The situation reminded her somewhat of her last trip to Virginia, now that she thought of it…

“Oh _come on!_ ”

He seemed to materialize in front of her instantly. There was no loud _crack_ like an apparation, but a mere _pop_ as he suddenly hovered a foot away from her in mid-air, his sharp black eyebrows furrowed together as he wore an impatient pout on his bluish colored face. “No screaming? No hyperventilating? Not even a _gasp?_ ”

Dandrane quirked an eyebrow, unable to stop the grin spreading across her face, both at his reaction and at the fact that he – an actual, _physical_ poltergeist – wore a hundred-year-old suit that seemed oddly well-cared for. It was a real _joke_ of suit, too, almost cherry red with yellow triangles everywhere, and it somehow fit the small man to a tee. “I’m a _Defense_ teacher. Did you really expect any less?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Peeves growled, regarding her with an irritated glare as he crossed his arms in a defiant huff. “I’ve made countless other teachers before you run off crying. Don’t go thinking your _special_ ,” he leaned in towards her, his eyes glittering in the light of her wand as he took on a feral grin. “I’ll make sure to drive you to the nutter’s house by the end of term.”

“Ooh, sounds _fun_ ,” Dandrane chuckled as she pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head, “I like a challenge. I’ll tell you what,” the professor crossed her arms in an imitation of him, tilting her head slightly to one side as if regarding him like a cat. “Visit me tomorrow in my office. If you can get past my wards on the door – not the walls, _just_ the door – I’ll let you try and make me go batty for a while, maybe an hour or two.”

“I don’t do _deals_!” Peeves put his hands on his hips, “If I want to torment you, I’ll do it!”

“Yeah, but more than likely, I’ll stop you. I’m giving you some free reign, here; a hex-free haunting, all in exchange for something you can probably do in less than a minute.”

The poltergeist gave her with a curious glare. “So what do _you_ get out of it?”

“Answers.”

“What _kind_ of answers?”

“We’ll find out if you show up tomorrow.”

Peeves stared her down, trying to search her gaze for any indication other than her constant smile that showed she was fooling around – there was only the gleam of excitement in her eyes, and he didn’t know whether it was his doing or the prospect of an experiment. It wasn’t necessarily a bad deal… A short time to play around and do whatever he wanted, no restrictions, just an hour to ruin everything she had. All for just getting past some wards on a door! _Pfft_ , he’d be able to get through them while _petrified_.

“Alright, _Phlegmy_ ,” he grinned wickedly, “I’ll play along. But just this _once_.”

“Excellent! See you tomorrow, Peeves,” She smirked, bowing her head slightly as if she were talking with polite company, and with a wave of her wand caused the door to fling open.  Halfway through it, she spun on her heel and called back to him as she walked backwards down the hall, “Oh, and for the record, I liked the trick with the carpet!”

Peeves’ only response to her was to blow a raspberry; as soon as she was out of sight, however, he couldn’t help but feel at least a _little_ proud, and for a while he floated about the castle with a bit more of a grin than usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy, folks, I’m TheBadgeringWitness, and welcome to my first-ever Harry Potter fic! ✧٩(•́⌄•́๑)و ✧  
> Not to say this is my first rodeo – I’ve written lots of stories over my fangirl lifetime, many of which will never see the light of day, but to be honest, this is the longest story I've ever written. I’m used to writing short stories and one-shots, so this was the first story where I have a time-line, plot-line, and a shit-ton of research notes written in a separate document to make sure I don't screw things up. I started writing this story in the summer and I've got a little over half the story plotted and a third of it fully written out. That said, I’m going to do my best to make these chapters at a decent length - not overwhelmingly long, but not super short, either, because I know all too well just how frustrating it is to see an update to a story that either has only a few pages of content or so much that you lose your place because you can't read it all in one go. In the future, I will add any new tags as they come up in the plot (but no, there is nothing that warrants an archival warning), and my A/Ns will be nice little chats about something specific that’s relevant to the story. With that said, please remember to fasten your seatbelts – ‘cuz I’m takin’ you for a riiiiide! (´ゝз・) ─☆


	2. Deal With The Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (EDIT NOTICE: "American Ministry" is now "Magical Congress [of the United States of America]" to coincide with one of the few Pottermore canons concerning my country that I actually liked. Since JKR didn't give a huge list of departments, though, I made my own. Dandrane specifically worked in the Ministry of Defense branch.)

At the stroke of midnight, Peeves zoomed through the second-floor hallway and halted at the D.A.D.A. office door. He didn’t care if the newbie was sleeping or not, she never specified a time for him to stop by, so it was her own fault if he got through and woke her up as rudely as he possibly could.

 _Piece of cake_ , he thought as he floated head-first into the door.

He was actually surprised, for once, to find that he couldn’t get his head through. He managed to slip his hand around one section of the door, and a knee went through another lower section with no problem at all, but his head refused to pass. It felt like he was resting his head against a steel gate rather than the wood of the door. Just as he was about to try and go through the spot his leg was in, a muffled voice spoke to him from the other side of the door.

“You doing okay?”

Peeves glared through the wood. This was getting increasingly annoying. The poltergeist began to feel around the door with both hands, looking for a wide enough opening. The top part of the door was impassible; the middle right was much easier, but he felt a little resistance; the middle left felt like he was being mildly electrocuted – it was bizarre to touch, but it wasn’t _impossible_ ; the bottom might as well not have any wards at all, it was so weak. He flew head-first through the bottom portion of the door, squeezing underneath the electrically-charged ward and feeling his neck get goosebumps from it.

Dandrane was sitting in a guest chair that had been turned to face the door, one long leg crossed over the other in an unladylike fashion, watching him with uncovered amused eyes. Even though she had apparently anticipated his early arrival, she had changed into a nightgown rather than stay in her muggle attire. It was a long, semi-sheer white thing that seemed to flow over her, accentuating all her curves and making her appear more like a model than ever. He wondered if she had hidden that weird plastic recording-thingy on her somewhere.

“Having trouble there, eh?” Dandrane gave an impish smile.

“I _am_ trouble,” Peeves grinned spitefully, “And you’re in for a heap of it, Phlegmy. I passed your door.”

Dandrane tutted as she shook a finger at him in a mockery of chastisement. “No, no, that wasn’t our agreement. I said if you could get through my _wards_ , not my door. I saw you get through two wards partially and completely through another one. You didn’t make it through the top of the door at all, or you would’ve gone through there,” she said as she rapidly wrote on a yellow notepad propped up on her lap. Peeves huffed, crossing his arms.

“I’m not surprised the bottom ward didn’t keep you out, it’s ancient and I deem it shit for anything larger than a plague-ridden rat. But what makes _me_ curious,” she eyed him, “is why you didn’t come through either of the _middle_ wards.”

“Why should I tell you?” Peeves stuck out his tongue. He certainly wasn’t going to play her game for _free_.

“I told you I wanted answers. Your testimonies here _are_ those answers. Gum?” The pink-haired witch popped a familiar blue piece of gum into her mouth and extended another of the wrapped sweets towards him, her expression nothing short of entertained. Figuring that at the very least he could mess up one of her locks when her back was turned, Peeves accepted it. He was never one to turn down a chance to ruin a person’s possessions, even if he had to endure her nosiness. The witch blew a small bubble, which rather than popping, floated up into the air and began to gently bounce off the walls. “Always helps me think. This stuff has nothing on Big Bubba’s, though. Now,” she pointed her quill towards the door, “What happened when you tried to get through the middle of the door?”

“I just didn’t want to.”

“Did you feel anything push against you, or anything weird?”

“Well, the left part was definitely a _shock_ ,” Peeves said, taking a seat on the edge of her desk, dangling his legs over it, “The bit above the handle was just a little tricky.”

Dandrane let her quill write for her, leaning against the armrest towards him casually. “What about the top part of the door?”

Peeves blew a large bubble, letting it break off and float towards the ceiling. “Couldn’t.”

“Interesting…” The professor drummed her fingers on her knee, turning her gaze to the door as the quill skated over the paper. “The one opposite the handle was a more experimental one from a colleague. The one over the handle is the one my wacko predecessor coated the supply closet with. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Peeves?” She cast him a sly grin.

The poltergeist hummed, swinging his legs a little over the edge of the desk, letting another bubble go up in the air. He supposed there was no point in lying about that one, Batty Bartlett probably tried to warn her with the story. “You mean you don’t _know_ , Phlegmy?”

“Bartlett only told me so much about you. I want to know what would make a guy put up three duplicated wards and two more that I _know_ won’t work against you, all for such a small space.” Dandrane now propped her head up on her hand, her expression becoming even more amused.

Peeves let a bubble pop in her face with a bang. “I _guess_ I could tell you _._ I’m surprised he didn’t write a warning on the walls,” he beamed at her. “That guy had some fun stuff, you know, so it wasn’t just books or papers he collected over the years in there. Funny instruments, trophies, stuff that claimed it was ‘unbreakable’… So _naturally_ ,” he let another bubble go, leaning an arm on the back of the chair, gesturing with his other hand as he spoke, “I was curious. I _may_ have broken a dozen or so glass things and mangled a trophy or two beyond repair, but really my only _real_ crime was breaking that big ‘unbreakable’ mirror he made as a centerpiece! For the record,” the poltergeist pointed to the quill that was moving rather rapidly over the notebook with a smarmy grin as the professor began to snicker, “what it really meant was ‘cannot be repaired with magic’. Old coot had a fit and put up all the wards in there, trying to keep me from doing it again! He really shouldn’t have bothered, you know? The next time he pissed me off I went and hid some of that stuff.  He still doesn’t know where the mirror went!”

Dandrane let out a burst of laughter she had been holding back, forcing her quill to stop as she leaned back in her chair. “Oh, oh _man_! I can’t believe – you broke – a _foe glass_! That’s – that’s-!” She dissolved into another round of laughter, trying to hide behind her hand until she could quiet herself down. When she finally turned back to him, she was somewhat pink in the face and her eyes were practically dancing. “And then you just _hid_ it from him?” she giggled, scrunching up her face to try and stop more laughs from escaping, “That’s impressive, only the _owner_ is supposed to be able to touch it!”

Peeves couldn’t help the smug look that came upon his face.

Dandrane still regarded him with a smile, but it became more mysterious as she shifted the subject, her laughter dying. “I’ll be honest with you, Peeves. I was worried you _would_ get through that top-most ward. It’s a good one, but I’ve never tested it on a poltergeist personally before.”

“What _was_ that one, anyway?”

“It’s a Mandarin-based one. Rather than just using a human’s magic or blood, their wards are more based on capturing the elements’ magic. In this case it primarily uses earth and water from the castle. I took a rather lovely trip to China last year; my tour-guide was a friend I met in Maine. She told me that she used these wards to keep spirits away. They’re primarily used for wizard housing over there, but have been known to branch out to muggle houses that have ghost problems. Not just the _run-of-the-mill_ wizard ghost, either. But I’ll tell you; this was just an experiment to see if it worked on you, I’m not going to keep it up. For you, my door’s open.”

Peeves stared, his grin frozen. Did she really understand what that _meant_? “So… I could come in at three in the morning and stick your desk to the ceiling?”

“If you could do it, yeah. That’d be rather funny, actually - it’d be better if I could find a way to stick myself in the chair with it. It would surprise the hell out of students…” She smiled wistfully, staring at the ceiling as if she were imagining it.

“And what if I tear your shelves apart?”

“It’s not that hard to fix. As long as you don’t burn anything, I don’t care. ”

Peeves now bobbed in front of her, his black eyes narrowed in suspicion. “ _Why?_ ”

Dandrane blinked, studied him for a moment, and replied in a more serious tone, though she still looked mildly amused. “The wizarding world has very little information printed on spirits, Peeves. The one half-decent book written on the subject was blacklisted fifty years ago because the author was affiliated with the dark arts. I plan on changing that. People need a book that explains the difference between non-beings and spirits with more than just ‘one was a human in previous life’ and gives more thought to what they’re all made of rather than just ‘magic’. All I ask from you is to answer some occasional questions. In exchange, you can break, smash, and ruin anything in my office and the classroom that I don’t ward and doesn’t belong to a student, as long as it’s not while students are inside. I don’t care if you spend an hour making fun of me, either.”

The poltergeist crossed his arms, blowing another large bubble and letting it pop. “Do I get credit?”

“If I manage to publish it, then yes, of course. Unless you decide you want to remain anonymous.”

“I’ll think about it, Phlegmy,” he drifted towards the wall nearest the door, giving a little wave without turning around.

“Just drop by and let me know whenever, Peeves.”

He glanced around as he drifted through the wall, just for one final look to see what her expression was. The poltergeist sort of wished he hadn’t, as the pink-haired professor had stood up from her chair, causing the gauzy material to fan out behind her as she walked and revealing, among other things, just how big the slit up her gown really _was_.

Peeves spent the next hour around the moving staircases, gleefully blowing large bubbles and watching them float to the ceiling, mulling over the too-good-to-be-true deal the professor had proposed and wondering why anyone who expected _him_ for company would wear something so revealing.

*~*~*~*~*

With two days left until the start of the term, Peeves could feel his excitement whirl him through the hallways. Of course, he knew it wasn’t just the prospect of having new walking targets for his pranks; he’d given Dandrane’s proposition some actually-serious thought (while juggling some of the more expensive teacups he’d ‘borrowed’ from Trelawney). The very idea that he could do whatever he liked in a teacher’s quarters was appealing – not like he didn’t do whatever he wanted in the Defense rooms during Umbridge’s reign (those were _real_ fun times), but to be given _permission_ to do so? It thrilled him. People could walk in on him juggling flaming knives over her desk and he could just say ‘Phlegmy said I could’! Even the Bloody Baron wouldn’t stop him if a teacher vouched for him!

He slipped through the door of the Defense teacher’s office (true to her word, it was not warded against him, though he felt a slight tickling sensation as he passed through) and slid through the walls of her bedroom, half-expecting her to be wide awake and scribbling away on her notepad. The room was pitch-black and her queen-sized four-poster had the curtains drawn, the vanilla color of them reminding him of the extravagant nightgown she had worn before. Popping his shoulders through the bed’s drapes, he discovered that the gown wasn’t just for show, she actually _slept_ in it.

Dandrane laid there, half her limbs twisted around red cotton sheets. The sheer nightgown was rumpled in quite a few places, so he could see an entire bare leg draped over the covers, as well as a damn good view of her breasts. He was tempted to just pull her nightgown down a little more, just to get a glimpse… Probably not a good idea, as she might be the type to try and curse a hand off for that. Then again, there was a slim chance, a _really_ slim chance that she would… _Nah, too unlikely_. But still, he couldn’t help but think about her beckoning him on, letting him see all he wanted. His hand was dangerously near her thigh. Maybe he could just skim his fingers over it, just to see if he could get a reaction out of her…

_You’re crossing a dangerous line there, Peevesy._

Opting for the safer route, the poltergeist hovered over her head, took a breath, and blew at her ear. The result was instantaneous – her face and ear reddened considerably and her eyes shot open. “W-wha-?”

Peeves giggled at the look on her face. She blinked at him, probably wondering if she were still dreaming, and pushed herself up onto one elbow. “What time is it?”

“I’ve got good news for you, Phlegmy,” he said, feeling smug.

“Huh? What’s that?”

“I’ve decided to accept. I’ll answer your wee nosy questions.”

Dandrane gave a little smile as comprehension dawned on her. “I should’ve guessed you would tell me at – what is it?” She cast a silent _lumos_ and pushed aside the bed-curtain. “Oh – _three A.M_.” She gave a little laugh as she plopped back down on her pillow. “Figures that you would show up at the witching hour,” she joked (seemingly to herself) as she rubbed her eyes.

Peeves kind of wanted to ask what that was; he figured it must be a _muggle_ thing rather than just a foreign thing, though. It seemed his confusion showed on his face, because the professor answered him anyway, giving him an amused smirk. “It’s supposedly the hour where demons, ghosts and other things have their peak power in the human world, so most strange things in a haunting occur around three. Bit of a weird idea, really, but with you here, maybe there’s some truth to it.” 

Peeves grinned as he hovered above her, positioning himself to ‘sit’ Indian-style and crossed his arms. “Well then, what’s the first question?”

“You want to do this now?” Dandrane blinked.

“What _else_ would I be here for?”

“Alright,” Dandrane sat up straight, pulling the sheets to cover her more appropriately, and retrieved her weird recording device from the nightstand. Peeves watched as the witch sorted around in the drawer for a fresh cassette tape. Why was she also pulling out a notepad, though? Didn’t she just record everything on those little tapes? With clearly practiced precision, the witch removed the old tape and inserted a fresh one in four seconds, pressing the big red button on top the moment the new tape was in. “This is Dandrane Flemming interviewing Peeves the Poltergeist, August 30th, three-o-four A.M.,” she said in a professional tone of voice. She placed the recorder on the bedspread, face-up, and looked at him with smile, a muggle pen poised in her hand over a yellow notepad. “Okay, Peeves, since you want to do this now, I’ll get right to it. When did you first arrive at Hogwarts?”

“That’s a silly question, Phlegmy. I never _arrived_ here.”

“Really? You were actually _created_ here?”

“Of course. Did you expect me to come on the train like a firstie?”

“Let me rephrase my question, then – how long have you been at Hogwarts?”

“ _Hmm_ ,” he stared at the top of her bed’s canopy, actually appearing to think as he counted off on his fingers; he sorted through ancient memories, trying to remember how old the kids were at the time of the first millennium celebration. “Since about…994, maybe.”

Dandrane scribbled on a yellow notepad. “You mean you’ve been here since the school opened?”

“That’s what I said, Phlegmy.”

Dandrane gave a deep chuckle. “Well, _well_ , so you’ve seen quite a few famous witches and wizards go through here, huh? Not to mention, you met the founders... I can’t begin to imagine their reactions when they saw that they had you as a new inhabitant…”

An old memory, almost forgotten, replayed in Peeves’ head. “I remember I scared ol’ Salazar when I knocked over his bookcase. That coot jumped out of his chair and started firing revealing spells like mad, thinking I was a student! He didn’t stop ‘til I threw a book at his head,” he gave a fond smile as he reminisced. “Oh, the look on his face when I got in front of him…”

“Is that your earliest memory?”

“Ooh, now you’re going the _psychiatry_ route on me?” he tutted.

“Not at all,” Dandrane laughed, “I’m actually just curious – do you remember how you were born?”

“Well, my parents were _far_ too proper for my tastes, and I was _such_ an unruly child that I decided to skip childhood altogether and hike it out of the womb fully-formed to seek my fortune!”  Peeves grinned as he gave a sarcastic hand gesture.

The pink-haired witch just laughed more, even hitting the headboard as she threw her head back with a cackle. “You _know_ that’s not what I meant,” she said in-between giggles, “I’ll rephrase. Do you remember how you came into existence at all?”

“Give me a break, Phlegmy; I can’t remember _that_ far back.”

“Okay, let’s try a different route:  did you learn how to break through wards, or is it instinctual?” The gleam in Dandrane’s pale eyes was very Ravenclaw-ish.

“Both,” Peeves said frankly. “A lot of it is natural. Wizard wards are usually so _feeble_ in comparison to _my_ magic, but some are a little trickier; they’re put together strangely so I have to…” He paused, watching her write so quickly he almost thought her pen was enchanted. “That’s _secret_ , that is.”

“I promise I won’t tell,” Dandrane looked up at him coyly through her lashes, “This is just simple curiosity. No one but me listens to these tapes, and I won’t write it down, either.”

“And what do I get in return for divulging such a _secretive_ secret?” Peeves leered, floating so he was just barely above her legs. He felt tempted to just run a hand over one, just to tease her, really…

“What do you want?” She placed the notepad and pen in her lap, eyeing him with a sly smile.

The poltergeist had a great many ideas. He could bargain for anything she owned, depending on just how badly she wanted an answer, and he’d be delighted to break it in front of her as soon as possible. Part of him wanted to answer ‘a night with you’ just to see if he could get a rise out of her, but judging by the knowing look in her eyes and all-too-seductive smile she had (how was it that he just _now_ noticed how pink her lips were?), he figured he wouldn’t be getting an outburst of anger or shock with _that_. “How about I ask _you_ a question?”

“Like ‘quid pro quo’?” She stared into his eyes at his response of ‘mm-hmm’. “Alright.”

“You’ll let me ask _any_ question?”

“Sure,” she said unabashedly, humor dancing in her icy-blue irises. “I don’t care.”

Peeves giggled to himself. “Alright, Phlegmy,” he sang, “Now this is just between you and me,” he said in a lower voice, a parody of her talking with Trelawney, “The trickier wards I have to work my magic around. It takes a few tries, but if I have time and I want to put in the effort, I can go through ‘em.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a professor, you figure it out!” He snickered. “So, Phlegmy, tell me,” he gave a very nasty grin as he pointed to her hair, “Does the carpet match the drapes?”

“Nope,” Dandrane said bluntly, “I’m a natural brunette. It’s too much effort to dye _everything_.” The witch leaned against the headboard with a casual smile. “Why do you think I don’t dye my eyebrows?”

Peeves glowered. This was not the flustered, angry answer of ‘none of your business’ he would expect from anyone else. There wasn’t even a _hint_ of malice in her voice. It was just like when he tried to torment her in the empty classroom - she was as cool as a cucumber and actually _enjoying_ herself.  He almost wanted to throttle her; maybe then she’d actually react like a normal person. She seemed to have noticed he was upset – she cleared her throat and gave a more serious face.

“Do you want to stop?”

He hovered above her, pouting, and grumbled out a ‘no’. He’d give her one more chance, just _one_ , and if he couldn’t get a decent reaction out of her, he’d break something and probably never come back.

“One last question,” she took on a cool, professional tone as she picked up her pen and paper. “Not counting during the Battle of Hogwarts, has any student actually died in the castle?”

“Yeah,” he said plainly. “Myrtle's the most recent.”

She paused, taking this in as her professionalism vanished. “ _Moaning_ Myrtle, who haunts the _bathroom_?” She stared aghast at him – you’d think he told her he could prove the world was flat. “She died _in the castle_?”

“ _Duh_. She hasn’t stopped bitching about it for twenty years, now.”

“ _Shit_!” Dandrane exclaimed, almost causing Peeves to slip in midair. “I _knew_ I should have asked her how she died! I just assumed she died on the grounds, like in Quidditch or the Forbidden Forest! _Damn it!_ ” She glared at the bed curtains, her arms folded as grumbled. “I just _know_ she won’t want to talk to me again, either. What a fucking _load_ …”

Peeves good mood returned; frustration was oozing out of the witch, and he excitedly took in every millimeter of it he could get. It was funny to finally see her a little pissed off - it had added some color in her face that went well with her hair. “Aw, did miserable, _horrible_ Myrtle _wail_ at you?” he taunted with a giggle.

“All I did was ask her if she could move through the plumbing at will. You’d think I poked fun at her pimples with the hissy fit she threw.”

“You should’ve,” The poltergeist said with a wicked grin. “ _Pimply_ cries like a faucet every time someone points out her spots, its _great_ fun; almost as fun as actually flushing her down the toilet!”

Dandrane gave a chortle, looking a little astonished. “You’ve actually _flushed_ her?”

“I could probably do that now, if I wanted,” his eyes glittered maliciously in the light of her wand, his grin wide. “It takes a day or two before she can come back up, and she’s always in a _rotten_ mood when she gets back.”

Dandrane’s eyes gleamed at this, and she furiously wrote on her notepad again. “You wouldn’t happen to know _how_ she died, would you?”

“Something about that chamber thingy Slytherin built before he left.”

Another quick scribble and Dandrane looked up, regarding Peeves with an adoring look. “Peeves – _babe_ – you’re the _greatest_ ,” Peeves wasn’t sure how to feel about the sudden pet-name, but his grin didn't waver. “I don’t care what time you come in, just come back again soon.” She beamed back, stretching her arms out and cricking her neck.

“I’ll wake you at another witching hour, Phlegmy – and don’t wait up, it’ll spoil my fun!” He floated backwards through her curtains, giving himself one last look at her in the rumpled nightdress as she shut off her recorder with the words ‘interview terminated, three-forty’.

*~*~*~*~*

Before she knew it, August was over with, sending the chilly wind of September rolling through the halls in place of the warm summer sunshine, and Dandrane found herself guided to the Great Hall by Professor Sinistra for the start-of-term feast. The older witch had insisted that Dandrane change into proper robes, rather than the smart pin-striped lavender suit she had picked out earlier. The pink-haired witch complied, but only just – she threw on a plain black robe that hit the floor, but still showed off her muggle suit-jacket, and claimed that the pink tie was the only clean one she had at the moment. It wasn’t _entirely_ a lie; Dandrane just thought that a black tie under a black robe wouldn’t stand out, and the pink one just looked better than the yellow. The younger witch was glad Sinistra didn’t try to fuss about her hair (something she refused to budge on), but she guessed that was because she opted to slick it backward for the event, rather than keep it spiked.

Professor Flemming discovered why the castle was so empty for the past hour – all the other teachers, except for Trelawney, Sinistra and Platts (who taught Transfiguration), were out bringing in the students from the train. Dandrane took a seat near the left end of the teacher’s table, seeing a little golden plaque with her name on it. Trelawney sat at the opposite end of the table, fiddling with a deck of cards and anxiously muttering to herself.

Just as Dandrane thought about calling out to her, a large balding man with a walrus-like mustache wheezed into the seat next to her. Even through her dark sunglasses, the witch could see that his robes were a lovely emerald green, not unlike that of the Slytherin house crest. “Good evening, Professor Slughorn.”

“Good evening to you, Professor,” his little eyes darted to her nameplate, “Flemming, is it? I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Dandrane shook his hand with a smile, watching his expression. “I’m Bartlett’s replacement for this year. He’s gone on holiday to India. I know he _says_ it’s a research trip, but one can’t visit India without having fun.”

“Quite right,” Slughorn chuckled, “You’ve been yourself, I presume?”

“I changed planes there while going to China. My flight was delayed by a whole day, so I had a lovely little adventure. Beautiful country,” Dandrane saw the same look of confusion flicker across the professor’s face as Trelawney had when she first brought up flights. “I’m terrible with a broom, you know, and the Floo Network always gives me a migraine, so I take the muggle method when it comes to long distances.”

“Oh, I see, but aren’t aero-planes rather unsafe? I’ve heard of several nasty incidents of crashes…”

“Normally it’s the safest way to travel. Though for the past couple of years the method for getting _on_ the damn thing has become much more complex, especially if you’re in America. They made me take off my shoes and open up all my suitcases, you didn’t used to have to do that. Still, I’d rather fly in a plane than face the ocean’s winds in my face,” Dandrane laughed. “I had to transfigure my trunks into muggle luggage, too, the magic kept interfering with the machines as they passed through the x-ray. It was hard not to laugh when the screens went wonky.”

“Oh, one of my muggleborn students told me about that, silly boy put his wand in his bag when he went to France and nearly broke the muggle’s machine!”

They shared a laugh as students began to file into the Great Hall, the Headmistress McGonagall taking her seat in the middle of the table as Professor Flitwick, the tiny Charms teacher, climbed onto several books in his seat next to her.

“Where are all the first-years?” Dandrane asked the Potions teacher.

“Ah, they arrive last, it’s tradition that they come to the school by riding boats over the lake, rather than in the carriages. A rite of passage, if you will,” Slughorn smiled, “You’ll know when they arrive, there’s always one who comes in sopping wet and Hagrid is always the one to show them in.”

“Hagrid?”

“The grounds-keeper,” he said, “Have you not met him? He also teaches Care of Magical Creatures.”

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t. Is he the half-giant that Harry Potter mentioned in that interview a few years ago?”

“Yes, though I do believe that’s still a bit of a sensitive topic, you might not want to mention that. It’s gotten better, though, since Mr. Potter started to reform the Ministry under Shacklebolt. Now, _Flemming_ , where have I heard that name before…?”

“My father’s a writer of wizard fiction, sir. Perhaps you’ve read one of his works? I know The Blood-Stained Quill is very popular.”

“ _Really?_ ” Slughorn’s expression became very greedy, his eyes bulging and shining. “I must say, I _did_ fancy that one. Especially the bit about the cuckoo clock holding the ink-blotter in a secret un-enchanted compartment! Absolutely _brilliant_ , that was, would have never thought of it myself. I was sad that I never got to meet him in person, you know – I have a first-edition copy at home, but he only ever did book-signings at releases, and I was teaching at the time...”

“I’ve got a signed copy myself, but I don’t think you’d appreciate the ‘to my darling daughter’ tag on it. I might be able to persuade him to sign your copy, if you’d like.”

“Oh my dear girl, that would be _most_ kind of you,” he beamed with his large greedy eyes. “And please, call me Horace; all my friends call me that.”

Dandrane leaned back in her chair with a well-practiced charming smile. “Sure thing, Horace, and you can call me Dandrane. Of course, I’d have to make _sure_ you weren’t planning on selling it - Dad’s a stickler for that and he’ll have my head mounted to a wall if I don’t cast at least a simple ownership jinx.”

“Ah, of course, naturally… I wouldn’t dream of doing that, but I understand… Ah, the ghosts have arrived!” Horace exclaimed, to which Dandrane followed his gaze with keen interest. “That means the first-years aren’t far behind!”

Sure enough, a swarm of ghosts - twelve by Dandrane’s count - floated through the stone walls, chatting with one another. The witch’s eyes skirted over every one of their faces, memorizing them as Sinistra placed a very tattered and somewhat burnt witch hat on a stool in front of the hall. “I’ve never seen so many ghosts in one place before,” the pink-haired witch mentioned in honest astonishment.

“There’s at least two missing, though Moaning Myrtle never shows up for the feast as it is – oh, never mind, there’s Sir Trechadod now! He’s the knight nearest the Hufflepuff tapestry. See the friar he’s talking to? That’s Hufflepuff’s house-ghost, everyone just calls him The Fat Friar, he’s quite the jolly sort,” Slughorn pointed to a somewhat rotund ghost with a bowl-cut and an old-fashioned friar’s robe. “That one there in the large ruff is Sir Nicholas, he’s belongs to the Gryffindor house, most people know him as Nearly-Headless Nick, you can see his head lop over occasionally – speak of the devil, there it goes now. Oh, and there’s the Bloody Baron!” he gestured to a tall ghost of a man with silver bloodstains on his ancient clothes. “He’s my house’s – Slytherin’s. People tend to avoid him, he _can_ be unpleasant at times, but he’s the only one who can control our poltergeist, so he does have respect from the majority of his ghostly peers, even if they don’t like talking to him.”

Dandrane studied the Baron – he had a gaunt, angry sort of face not helped by his sullen expression. A few of the kids at the Slytherin table looked rather uncomfortable as he hovered nearby. “I’m surprised our little poltergeist isn’t here,” Dandrane wondered aloud in an amused voice, picturing his cackling face as he would no doubt zoom over the student’s heads, “You’d think he’d love the opportunity to be at a party. Or does he just avoid the Baron?”

Professor Sinistra, who had just taken the seat next to them, looked over with a bit of a stern gaze. “Peeves hasn’t been allowed to attend the feasts in many years. Supposedly, the last time he was in here he caused several stuffed turkeys to explode on the tables,” Sinistra nodded, “But I believe the Baron put his foot down and banned him. The Grey Lady mentioned it to me when I was in my first year.”

Slughorn’s eyes bulged out of his head a little. “Speaking of, I saw the Lady herself talking with Sir Nicholas this morning; it seems our poltergeist made a great fuss over wanting to come this year. It’s no wonder the Baron seems to be in such a sour mood!”

Sinistra peered over at the Potions teacher. “You weren’t here for it, Horace, but during the last Tri-Wizard Tournament he disrupted all the house-elves in the kitchens as revenge. Apparently there was almost no welcoming feast at all, what with all the damage. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did something similar in protest.”

“Funny, all my years at Hogwarts and I’ve only heard of him trying to join the feast a handful of times, but I don’t recall he did anything like _that_. The last time I recall him just dropping a giant bag of dung-bombs on the students as soon as they opened the doors,” The potions master gave a little chuckle.

“Doesn’t the tournament have a huge goblet of fire or something, like the muggles have the Olympic torch?” Dandrane asked Professor Sinistra.

“Yes, but they didn’t bring it out until Halloween, when the other two schools arrived.”

“Oh, I figured he might want to tip it over or something…” the younger witch paused in thought. “Why would he be so intent on coming to the welcoming feast, then? Was there anything else new being presented that year?”

Before either professor could respond, a group of forty small children pushed into the hall, many of whom had tell-tale water marks on their plain robes, with one blond boy looking soaked to the bone. They were followed by an enormous man with a long scraggly black beard and a matching head of hair. For once, Dandrane felt short – the half-giant was at least five feet taller than her, if not more. It was rather comical, seeing all the children mill about under him.

Headmistress McGonagall stood up from her seat, holding up her hands to the buzzing crowd. The mass of students all looked to her, silence falling over them as the youngest students stood shakily awaiting their fate.

“To all of our students, I bid you welcome to the start of another year. For our newest students, we have a tradition here at Hogwarts – the ceremony of the Sorting Hat, by which you shall be placed in your respectable houses, where you will henceforth live and work among your like-minded peers. When your name is called, please take a seat and place the hat on your head. But first, as always, our Sorting Hat would like to personally greet you.”

As the hat began to sing about each of the four houses, Dandrane watched the ghosts from behind her sunglasses. All of the house-ghosts where watching the hat’s performance while the others hung about on the sides and back of the hall. A few were chatting quietly to one another, though Dandrane sorely wished she knew what _about_. The Sorting Hat’s tune was off and his lyrics were too plain for her tastes – Dandrane could barely pay attention to it. She got the gist of it; some houses were the best of friends, they all had certain traits, and so on. Nothing the hat spoke of was anything she hadn’t already learned in  Hogwarts:  A History, so she continued to stealthily survey the room.

A few of the older students were subtly gesturing to her area of the teacher’s table and muttering to one another. Dandrane figured they were talking about her, since she was the new professor and the only odd one out at the table. But why did those few students look nervous? _Is it because they think I’m a permanent replacement or something?_

The rest of the evening was far too long for Dandrane’s taste. The sorting took quite a while, during which she mentally kicked herself for not bringing a book or something so she could at least entertain _herself_. The students seemed to eagerly await the housing decision for each first-year, but she wasn’t sure why, since it was statistically unlikely that one house would only get a single new member and that minor possibility went out the window after the first ten names were called. Rather than sit there and listen to it earnestly like the majority of the room’s inhabitants, she counted the heads of all the students at each table. Sometimes she tried to guess their personalities, a pastime her and her father would often partake in when they were stuck waiting around in public.

Even as the feast went on (Dandrane had to admit, everything looked and tasted incredible) and Horace Slughorn and Aurora Sinistra chatted with her on various topics, she couldn’t help but feel the whole thing was somewhat dull. It was only broken a little when she gave a bow at the mention of her name in McGonagall’s end-of-feast speech about her replacing Bartlett for the year – she noticed that the older students who were pointing her out looked less wary, but were giving her a more skeptical eye. She could understand the seventh years, as they had been given a new professor during their N.E.W.T. levels and they wouldn’t know if she could properly prepare them or not, so they might be mistrustful of her skills. But if that was really the case, why did some sixth years give her the same look, but none of O.W.L.-bound the fifth years? It was certainly a mystery…and Dandrane had a love-hate relationship with those. At the very least, she was grateful to have something else to think about during the feast, particularly when Horace recounted a story about a how he met few of the more celebrity students he had taught.

After the plates were magically cleared and the teachers bid each other goodnight as the students filed away to their dorms, Dandrane couldn’t help but wish that Peeves had been able to attend the feast. Having one of the roasts spontaneously combust would’ve livened things up a bit.

*~*~*~*~*

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was bright and full of curiosities. Several tanks with small odd creatures were perched on tables and bookcases, accompanied by strange books like _The Oddball’s Method for Practical Defense_ , _Magical Hand-to-Hand Combat_ and _Books as Weapons - Through Transfiguration!_ An assortment of glass instruments twinkled in the sunlight on top of a glass bookcase filled with muggle and magical writing tools. The teacher’s desk was unusually messy – various papers were stacked in piles next to a couple of half-full ink pots and there was at least three quills (one of which looked broken) in a pile on top of an empty in-out filing tray. A tall coo-coo clock sat at the side of the room between two tanks, with a little golden perch seen behind the little glass doors where the bird would emerge, but no bird was there. The teacher, too, was nowhere to be seen, even though it was supposed to be the first day of classes.

Just as the second-year students began to converse amongst themselves, the classroom door shut behind them with a bang – startled, they all turned to look, but no one was there.

“What are you all looking at? It’s just a door,” a deep feminine voice called from the front of the room. She couldn’t have possibly come in so _quickly_ , right under their noses - she was too tall and too flashy-looking. Her muggle clothes were one thing – a bright yellow blouse and dark blue pencil skirt – but with her pointed red heels, matching manicure, and her pink fauxhawk, there was no way she could’ve snuck by them without an invisibility cloak. Professor Flemming beamed at them as she stood in front of her desk, her old-fashioned sunglasses still perched on her nose like the night before. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, that’s the oldest trick in the book! Just like a muggle magician, it’s all about how quick your hand is,” she gestured her wand to the door, where it shot open halfway and then closed again. “I was just hiding while I watched you lot come in! I just used the door as a distraction while I revealed myself,” she grinned as if she got a kick out of her own joke.

“Now, to business! As most of you already know, I’m Professor Flemming, standing in for Professor Bartlett this year as he’s gone on a so-called ‘research trip’,” she said while making air-quotes with her fingers. “I’ll make my personal introduction quick:  I’m hailing from America, all the way from the west coast, where I taught Defense for five years. I attended Bayard’s School of Magic in British Columbia for seven years, and I was a teacher’s aide in my last year. And in case any of you, or your older peers, doubt my credentials – I’ll have you know I worked for the Magical Congress' Ministry of Defense for seven years, five of which were as an Auror, on both the west coast _and_ the east coast. I know it will be a little disorienting to learn from a very different professor for such a short time, so don’t feel afraid to ask questions, but I don’t want to hear _any_ wise-cracks about my teaching methods,” The witch shot her wand at the blackboard, where a list of ‘Classroom Rules’ began to write itself in plain text. “I’ve turned even the most helpless students into better witches and wizards. In fact, I _guarantee_ that the worst of you will get at least a ten percent boost on your grade from last year – provided, of course, you put in a little effort,”

“Now, I have only a few rules for this classroom, as you can probably see,” Professor Flemming gestured to the blackboard, her grin replaced by a serious expression. “Number one:  Unless it’s an emergency, you will raise your hand before you ask a question. Number two:  Do not use your wand unless we are doing a practical exercise or I give express permission, and an extension of this is number three, which I cannot stress enough:  do NOT point your wand at another person or being _unless I tell you to_. If I catch you doing this I _promise_ the consequences will be dire. Number four:  I do not tolerate cheating on any exam or quiz I give you, and if you try I guarantee I will find out. When I say ‘do not tolerate’ I mean ‘I will _personally_ kick your ass out of the room, give you a zero and write to your parent or guardian to tell them what a disappointment you are.’ And lastly, number five, which is a school rule you should have all had drilled into you before you came to school in the first place:  I do not tolerate bullying. The consequences of that will change on the circumstance. Any questions?”

A Hufflepuff girl with a long braid raised her hand. “Um, why do you have nor – er - _muggle_ notebooks in this cabinet?”

Professor Flemming gave a soft smile. “Are you muggle-born, too?” The Hufflepuff girl nodded shyly. “I’m half-blooded myself. I never understood why wizards liked using plain parchment for everything, muggle notepaper is _much_ easier to use for note-taking,” with another grand wave of her wand, the glass cabinet flew open and a blank notebook flew into her hand. “For those of you who grew up in magical households, this is called a composition notebook,” the cover opened, the pages turning slowly by themselves. “They are printed with lines so it’s easy to write straight and they’re dirt cheap. I also have a whole box of ball-point pens; I brought them mainly for any student who grew up in a non-magical household that was having trouble getting used to parchment and quills, but if any of you are curious, I’ll give them to you for the year. All you need to do is give me your name and you’re set. Any takers?”

A Slytherin boy from the back row rolled his eyes. “What’s the point? Muggle-borns are going to have to use parchment and quills for the rest of their lives anyway.”

Professor Flemming strode to the back of the class, her smile not wavering. “Well, Mr.-” she looked down at the front of his desk as if he had a name-plate there. “Giles, have you used a quill all your life?”

“Yeah,” the boy said plainly.

“Then how do you think it would be if you used feather quills for - what, seven, eight years? – and then you found out you had to use a bulky little stick to write with for everything? Now factor in that you have very little time to learn how to _use_ the thing, and even then it makes your hand-writing look sloppy for _months_. Now factor in that half of the other kids around you have been using these sticks for all their lives and that every adult you meet tells you that everybody but _weirdos_ use those sticks when they’re in the so-called adult world and that writing with quills are pointless, even though it’s what you grew up with and saw. Are you going to tell me that you wouldn’t feel isolated? That you wouldn’t beg to use a quill for just _one day_?”

“…maybe.”

“Good. That’s pretty similar to what a muggle-born has to deal with as soon as they enter a wizard-run school. Would you like to try using a pen? They refill themselves, you know,” she held out one to him, and when he looked away she started to twirl it between her fingers and making her way back to the front. “Now, if anyone wants to try one, I’ll leave them on my desk here. Does anyone want a composition book?”

Four Hufflepuffs, five Ravenclaws, three Gryffindors and six Slytherins raised their hands, some of which did so cautiously. Notebooks automatically zoomed to their desks, and a blue quill on the professor’s desk began to write over a sheet of paper by itself.

“Any more questions, before we move on?”

A Ravenclaw boy with thin glasses raised his hand. “Professor, you mentioned quizzes earlier. Are these periodical?”

Professor Flemming’s blackboard began to have a second set of writing appear. “Good question, I’m glad you brought that up. Unlike the rest of the school, which designates half of your grade to your end-of-year tests and the other half to homework, I do things the way a university would. That is, thirty-five percent of your class-grade comes from a mid-year exam and a final exam, twenty-five percent comes from your homework assignments, twenty percent comes from quizzes I will give at least once a month if not with a few surprises, and the final twenty percent comes from projects I will assign you a couple times a year.”

There was suddenly a great uproar in the classroom, with all thirty-nine students clamoring at once.

“Projects?”

“Isn’t that just more homework?!”

“That’s so _unfair_!”

Professor Flemming held up her hands, her brows furrowed. “ _Silence!_ ”  

The room fell into an eerie hush.

“That’s better. Really, I can’t understand you if you all speak at once like that. Yes, projects are technically homework, but they are not just _more_ homework. I was a student once too, you know, I’m not _cruel_ ,” the professor raised a brow, staring at the room through her dark lenses. “I’ve talked with several professors here, and I know their idea of homework differs from mine. They want you all to do essays every week or so, which I find are not only boring to _grade_ , but also boring to _do_ ,” she said with a quirk of a smile. “Homework for you will mostly be practicing the spells I teach you and answering a couple of short questions. Projects I assign you are more like essays and research, where you will actually have to read your texts more in-depth or venture into the horror that is the _library_ ,” her grin broadened. “You will also not do this alone, as I plan to make several of these group projects, so you will work alongside your fellow students.”

There seemed to be an almost cumulative sigh of relief.

“So other people will be able to mooch off our hard work?” another Ravenclaw piped up from the middle of the room in a cold voice.

The professor waved her hand as if to brush aside the idea. “Of course not! If your group members aren’t doing their share of work outside the classroom, tell me and we’ll have a little chat.”

“Will these groups be assigned?” A Gryffindor asked.

“Sometimes. I think I’ll try pairing you all off with members of different houses for your first project next week,” she tapped her chin as she seemed to think, despite the confused and weirded-out looks she got. “I don’t want to hear _any_ complaining over that, no matter what house you get paired with, _capiche_? The rivalries between houses should remain purely for sports, not academia like your other teachers seem to encourage. In the real world it doesn’t matter what house you come from, you can get assigned to work with someone who’s the complete opposite of you and find that it’s the best decision your boss ever made. Now,” the pink-haired witch looked over at the coo-coo clock with a smirk, “I think it’s about time we have a little refresher quiz. Don’t look at me like that, it won’t count for a grade and as soon as you finish it and bring it up here you’re free to leave.”

A grand wave of her wand later, and quiz sheets had flown to every desk (some doing loop-de-loops or spirals on the way), with many a student pulling a weary or disgruntled face as a flurry of quills and ink pots broke out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I hope the first day of class wasn't too boring to read! I'm not used to writing scenes with large groups, so it was a struggle - but I couldn't leave it out, since it helps define Dandrane's character a little more. And I know the dragon skeleton isn't in the books, but I really like the look of it in the films, so I kept it in. Now, last time, I mentioned that the A/N's were going to talk about something relevant to the story! So let's have some fun ranting about Hogwarts! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°
> 
> You ever notice how screwed up the layout of Hogwarts is in the books? I re-read the whole series, and they're sort of inconsistent with what goes where. I looked up maps of Hogwarts, bookmarked certain pages in the books, and looked through the HP Wiki to help get the layout of the castle for my notes, and some didn't quite add up! In the early books, the Trophy Room is on the third floor right next to the Armory - but in Goblet of Fire Harry leaves the prefect’s bathroom on the fifth floor and mentions Peeves bouncing around the Trophy Room one floor above him. Does the castle rearrange itself every other year or something??? (I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it canonically did so, but I never saw that note anywhere...) So fuck what anything else says, I’m doing shit set by the earlier stories. 
> 
> Y'know, this chapter does bring up a good question... How many kids HAVE died at Hogwarts? Canonically, people have died playing Quidditch, died during the Tri-Wizard Tournament tasks, probably died from wandering in the Forbidden Forest, and very likely had a lot of accidents involving magic that lead to new school rules, but Myrtle is the only child ghost we ever see. Did anyone attempt suicide at the school? Did anyone get killed in a duel? Did any student die from the old system of punishments? We never got any sort of confirmation of such things. My head-canon is that Myrtle is only the latest person to die at Hogwarts (outside of the Battle), and Hogwarts had a long period of death-free years before that, but only because magic folk realized that cautionary rules and guidelines had to be thought of before accidents happened, and that they really shouldn't subject children to torture for punishment. Old punishments and hallway/classroom duels ended more lives than Hogwarts historians would like to admit. (I mean why the fuck would you hang a child to the ceiling by their thumbs?! Molly Weasley would kill your ass if you even thought about it!!) 
> 
> I know I took a while to upload this one, so the next chapter will be out on Monday (10/26)! See you then, lovelies!  
> (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧


	3. A Source of Warmth

The rest of the week gave Dandrane a lot to think about. She discovered her first-years were not only the easiest to handle, but they were far more open to the idea of working with students from other houses than the second-years. When she pitched the idea to the third and fourth year classes, they opposed it so much that she had to start shattering conjured plates in order to get them to shut up. _At least I don’t have the room in the plan to make exam students do group work. Their loss, really… I’d hate to see them tell me they refused to work with someone because the person’s house was ‘known’ to be comprised of a bunch of idiots, snobs, or assholes, as little Miss Carring so delicately put it._

The first-year students were comprised of about ten from every house, and unlike the second-years, who already knew what to expect from a magical class, the first-years seemed more excited on the prospect of learning from her. Dandrane figured it had somewhat to do with their first impromptu lesson, how to fling away your weaker opponents through _flippendo._

 _Note to self,_ she thought as she sorted through her fifth-years first homework assignments, _thank Peeves for putting a whole colony of live tarantulas in my desk drawer._ The students’ faces had been priceless when she started scooping them out with her bare hands, but once she had fenced in all twenty-one of the arachnids (they were so darn _fuzzy_ she couldn’t help but coo at a few) and explained how they were going to start off the year with a practical lesson, they became a bit more lax. Once she divided them into pairs and got them practicing _flippendo_ , the students looked a little more confident as they flipped spider after spider away into a makeshift little goal. The little colony of tarantulas soon found itself traumatized, but alive, and was sent back to the transfiguration classroom in a clean tank.

In contrast, the sixth and seventh year classes were less enthusiastic. Even when Dandrane had demonstrated her expert-level wards and her knack for transforming even the simplest object into a deadly weapon, they were still worried they wouldn’t be able to pass their N.E.W.T.s. It wasn’t until Dandrane had told them she’d be borrowing their lesson plans from Bartlett that they cheered up and breathed sighs of relief. One of the seventh years even mentioned the other reason why they were so worried when they found out she was replacing Bartlett the night of the feast – apparently, for many years Hogwarts had a jinx on the D.A.D.A. position rumored to be put there by none other than Lord Voldemort himself; a new teacher had to be brought in for the subject every year, as something unfortunate would always happen to them. For a while, the kids had thought that the jinx was somehow catching up to Bartlett, and he was going to be decommissioned permanently by next term.

_Speaking of Bartlett, I wonder why I haven’t gotten a response back yet from my owl last week. You would think he’d jump at the chance to warn me about Peeves even more than he already has… Does the story of the supply closet take that long to write, or did that retched owl from the post office screw up? At least I wouldn’t get that kind of shit from Sabrina._

Sabrina, her pet turkey vulture, had arrived from Maine during breakfast on Friday with the horde of owls carrying mail and newspapers. In addition to causing several students to gawk curiously at the teacher’s table, Trelawney had almost fallen out of her chair while declaring that the bird was a terrible omen of misfortune and death. Dandrane replied to this by petting the vulture’s bald head and calmly telling the seer that she had the bird for fifteen years and hadn’t experienced death yet. Trelawney had soon scuttled off to her tower with the excuse of needing to clear her Inner Eye.

Dandrane had later paid a visit to Trelawney’s tower to properly introduce her beloved pet and left with a satisfied smile and a warning to keep an eye on the fish tanks in her classroom.

*~*~*~*~*

Light of the early afternoon sun filtered through the castle’s windows and permeated the hallways, causing the suits of armor and various portraits’ frames to glisten and make the hall even brighter. Even though he was dead, Sir Nicholas de Mimsey-Porpington felt almost warm at the sight, so long as he lingered long enough in the sun’s rays. The ghost guessed this was more a psychological effect than a physical one, but he clung to whatever almost-feeling he could possibly get from the physical realm. Whether the warmth was real or not, it was a small comfort.

It was _too_ small a comfort today. There were far too many careless remarks about his almost-beheaded nature by students already, and to top it all off, a fellow ghost just _had_ to bring up the topic of headless polo. He couldn’t quite blame the student’s curiosity or tactlessness, as they were young and many had not seen a ghost before they came to Hogwarts, but it didn’t stop his mood from plummeting further.

“Excuse me,” a feminine voice sounded behind him, “aren’t you Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor house-ghost?”

The ghost turned his head, and the sight of a rather pretty young woman came into view. The short shockingly-pink hair and little sunglasses she wore brought forth memories of the Sorting. “Indeed I am, dear lady. You must be Professor Flemming; I recognize you from the feast.”

The sun’s rays reflected off the professor’s glasses as she grinned. “Yeah, I think everyone recognizes me now, it’s hard not to miss the hair.”

“Forgive me – is there something I can help you with, Professor?”

 “Sort of. I really just noticed that you seemed rather down in the dumps. I hate to leave a person walking around like that, you know?” The witch smiled sympathetically.

Sir Nicholas gave her a half-hearted smile in return. “Yes, well… There’s not much you can do for that, I’m afraid. Unless you can figure out a way to make a ghost completely headless, that is.”

The professor raised a well-plucked eyebrow. “Why would you want to be headless?”

“Well, my dear lady, there’s only so many times I can be subjected to the inquiry of why some people call me ‘Nearly-Headless Nick’ without getting annoyed at the constant reminder that my own death was botched so horribly. Not to mention, no matter how many times I apply I am constantly rejected from the Headless Hunt! It’s only some of the best entertainment you can be a part of while you’re dead; you’d think being nearly headless would suffice for _some_ of it...”

“The Headless Hunt… Yes, I can see why you’d be upset about that. Forgive me, Sir Nicholas, but there aren’t any headless ghosts at Hogwarts, right?”

The ghost sighed. “Correct, sadly.”

Dandrane grinned somewhat cheekily. “Sir Nicholas, I would think you’d count your blessings that you _weren’t_ headless,” she said, leaning against the window. “I imagine Peeves would have a lot of fun hiding a ghost’s head all over the place. A headless ghost would spend more time looking for his head around here than he would performing tricks with it.”

Sir Nicholas felt his mood lift. The lady had a point – despite the fact that the Baron would eventually stop him, Peeves would no doubt delight in making Sir Nicholas comb the entire castle for his head if he could. And if he was completely headless while the vanishing cabinet was still serviceable, there was no doubt his afterlife would be miserable, Baron or no Baron. “You know, I believe you’re right, Professor Flemming. I trust you’ve met our infamous poltergeist already?”

“Sure have,” the witch chuckled. “I’m glad I teach Defense, or else I’d be at a loss with that guy. Speaking of,” she hastily checked her wristwatch, “I’ve got to run, class resumes in an hour and I’ve still got things to sort through.”

“Of course, Professor Flemming, I’m delighted to have met you.”

“Same here, Sir Nicholas. See you later,” the witch beamed, and with a swish of her wand, she began to glide down the hallway on a pair of conjured roller-skates, leaving the ghost to bask in the warmth of the sunshine.

*~*~*~*~*

Peeves ungracefully flicked through the pages of the yellow legal pad, his little black eyes skirting over the slightly messy cursive that was Dandrane Flemming’s handwriting, trying to find anything he deemed worthy of interest. Usually, that meant his name or a description of him, but occasionally it would be something having to do with Hogwarts. He did live there, after all, so he _knew_ it was interesting.

Through all the miscellaneous pieces of paper Dandrane had kept stored away, only a handful mentioned him by name. A couple mentioned a few of Hogwarts’ secret passages that Dandrane had either heard of or discovered herself by accident. The majority of her scribbles, however, were either dedicated to very odd theories about what she deemed ‘psychic phenomena’ and its possible connection to magic or what seemed to be rough drafts of her in-the-works book on spirits. _Didn’t she write stuff down when I visited her over a week ago? Where the hell are **those** notes?_  

He had already been through her night-stand drawer, which held nothing interesting except a few scandalous-looking romance novels that Peeves figured he’s leaf through later. If the notes weren’t in this last drawer, he was going to literally turn the place upside down.

 _Notebook three, here we go… Blah blah blah…number of ghosts in Hogwarts…interview with Myrtle, yadda yadda…wait, **MYRTLE**? _ Peeves settled into the professor’s chair, letting himself sink against the blue velvet cushions as he read.

> See tape 39 for more in-detail descriptions. Saw Moaning Myrtle on the second floor bathroom. Found out she can move through the pipes but can’t seem to stop herself from moving through pipes when water is flowing and ends up in the Black Lake. <-Peeves said she always comes back from there in a bad mood. Wonder why?
> 
>                                                 ^also, Peeves has flushed her before! HOW??
> 
> She kicked me out before I could ask more. You’d think she’d enjoy some company, no one in their right mind would talk to her, that bathroom was NASTY. <-Let’s see if Peeves will flush her again. I kind of want to see that in action.
> 
> She can definitely interact with water. As observed in majority of hauntings, spiritual energy becomes more rampant near running water. Are ghosts bound by elements, or can they simply interact with them until they get out of control? Definitely water, maybe earth - see Ministry orders on ghost restrictions. Ask about fire later.

Peeves couldn’t help but snicker aloud. _Maybe I_ should _drag Phlegmy along to flush Pimply again. I’d love to write damning reminders about her death all over her toilet afterward…_ The poltergeist dog-eared the page and read on.

> Continuation of tape #39:  My tape cut off mid-sentence. Man, I wish I had a video camera instead of a tape recorder sometimes. Though I doubt Peeves would’ve allowed me to film him when I saw him the first time! But man, words can’t do justice to what just happened! First he blew out the torches, then he rolled the hallway rug up and I think got a running start on rolling it down the hall! It was like the boulder that chased Indiana Jones, but with a rolled carpet that kept getting bigger! I had to duck into a nearby room, which was an unused classroom. The desks fucking moved by themselves, shoving towards me all at the same time! I thought they were going to fly at me! And then, there I am, heart pounding and wand ready to fire, when Peeves literally pops out of nowhere! Turns out he was waiting for me to get scared. He seemed kind of mad that I wasn’t, really, but he didn’t know how damn freaked out I was in my head. (So many ghost hunts and I’m still not used to this shit, go figure.) Not only did it surprise me, but I never expected to see another full-bodied poltergeist again in my life! At least this one’s a little friendlier!
> 
> Physical description – male, short (4 ½’?), black sleeked hair, bluish-white skin tone, black eyes, wider sort of face,  wears a red suit w/ yellow pattern (I’m jealous, it has long tails!) & orange bow-tie, I think his ears are pointed at the top?     <-THEY ARE!
> 
> To top it off, I managed to get him to agree to test my wards! I’m still surprised he was interested – I guess it was the thought of getting to torment me without any punishment that sold him. I just can’t believe I get to test them! And even if they fail, it’ll be fun to see a poltergeist in action for a while! I’m keen to know what he gets up to, Bartlett’s warnings made me very curious. 

Even though it wasn’t the flattering, flowing sort of writing style he expected, Peeves couldn’t help but feel a little affectionate towards the professor. To think, she wasn’t as calm and collected as she had let on when he first saw her! _What an actress…_  

The heavy wooden door opened on its own a moment before Dandrane slid into view. As she crossed the threshold, Peeves could feel excitement prickle in the air. He pretended to continue reading, wanting to see what her reaction would be as soon as she noticed him.

“Hey Peeves, I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” Dandrane beamed at him, the light glinting off her dark lenses as she strolled to the desk, looking taller than usual. “Find anything _interesting_?”

“Hmm, _maybe_ ,” he teased. _Go figure, she’s not even a little ticked off I’m going through her stuff._ “You have shitty prose, though, you know? I kind of expected my description to be more _flattering_. I didn’t get any sense of fear out of you little remarks, here.”

Dandrane laughed; it was a deep, sultry sort of tone. “That’s just my notes. My real writing is better than that, but not by much,” she joked, moving a pile of paper out of the way to sit on the desk. Her clingy red jeans stretched to give a somewhat more defining shape to her thighs, and Peeves was suddenly aware of the way her ribbed top clung to her chest. “Actually, it’d be nice to have help with some of the descriptions of the people here. When I write that portion, you could proof it for me and tell me what I should put for you. How does that sound?”

The spirit tried to keep his gaze on her face. “That’d be an improvement.”

“Speaking of improvements, this is a pretty nice accessory,” she flicked one of the bells on the top of his hat. “Though you’d think the bells would alert people when you’re coming. Isn’t that a bit of a draw-back?”

“I don’t wear it _all_ _the time_. I like to bring it out a few weeks out of the year. It’d be boring to wear the exact same thing every _day_." 

“I didn’t think you _could_ change clothes, but I guess that makes sense, your outfit is fairly modern…  Assuming you have others, where do you keep them?”

“That’s _my_ secret, _nosy_.”

“Says the guy rifling through my desk,” she smirked, not a hint of malice in her voice. “Actually, while you’re here, do you mind if I ask you something?”

“You just did, Phlegmy.”

“Don’t bullshit me, man,” the witch said, half-laughing. “Can you – _will_ you tell me all that you know about the Headless Hunt?”

Peeves tossed the notepad down on the table, crossing his legs in the chair and putting his arms on the armrest as if it were a throne, feeling rather empowered as he regarded her with a know-it-all air. “ _Maybe_. Why do you want to know?”

“I ran into Sir Nicholas on my way back here. We got to chatting and he mentioned it. I’ve never heard of it.”

A grin burst on the poltergeist’s face. “I would’ve _loved_ to see you ask him about it, he’d get in such a _mood_!”

“Yeah, he did seem rather upset that he kept getting rejected from it. Do headless ghosts do that often or something?” Dandrane popped a piece of pink bubblegum into her mouth and began to chew.

“Every time a ghost has a big party, you see a bunch of headless ghosts who's only purpose is to get together, remove one of their heads to hide it, and then hunt for it. There’s also headless polo and head-juggling, but I don't know why they bother, they've got nothing on _my_ juggling skills," he said offhandedly. " _Wish_ I hadn’t gotten so distracted at Nicky’s last big Death-Day party; I would’ve loved to have taken one of their heads when they weren’t looking! I could’ve stuck it in Filch’s filing cabinets, that would’ve doubled the fun…” Peeves added with a dreamy sigh. “Ah well, there’s always next time.”

“Hmm…” Dandrane murmured in interest, pulling out a long cigarette holder from the pocket of her slacks and putting it between her lips. Rather than putting a cigarette in to smoke, she stopped chewing – a pink bubble soon formed on the end of the little stick, detaching itself when it was three inches in diameter, and began to float into the air. The witch pulled the notepad Peeves had been reading towards her and picked up a purple self-filling quill from the holder on her desk, beginning to scribble on a fresh page. “When was this Death-Day party?”

Peeves watched as a cube began to form from the cigarette holder. “’bout ten, eleven years ago, probably, he turned five-hundred…” he trailed off as the cube floated up to join the spherical bubble. “What _is_ that?”

Dandrane pulled the holder out of her mouth and held it as if she were smoking. “Nice, isn’t it? Makes bubbles into different shapes at random. It’ll do cigar shapes, cubes, pyramids… You can also use your fingers to shape it on the way out and make little boats. Hold on, we’ll try for a canoe,”

Sure enough, the next bubble that grew from the cigarette holder was elongated, like that of a cigar. The witch seemed to know when to stop blowing to get the bubble to remain attached, as she took three swipes with her fingers to make a basic canoe-looking shape and gave one final blow, sending the little boat into the air. “My goal is to make a whole ship with one big bubble - the kind with cannons and big sails.”

Peeves watched as the little canoe floated lazily over his head. “Where did you _get_ that?”

“I made it myself, actually,” Dandrane beamed proudly. “Turns out enchanting gum and keeping it safe to eat is trickier than I thought, so I figured I needed a tool to do it instead. My old office pal smoked for four years and decided to quit when she found out her grandfather had lung cancer, so she gave me the cigarette holder and let me experiment on it.”

“Can I borrow it?” Peeves asked in a mischievous tone, watching as the cube-bubble got stuck in the corner of the ceiling.

“I’ve got a spare somewhere… Oh, the Death-Day party. Was it just the castle ghosts that attended?” The stick almost dangled from her mouth as she spoke.

Peeves grinned up at her. “I won’t answer unless I get to try that,” he said in a sing-song voice, pointing at the cigarette holder.

“No way, you’ll just take it.”

“Aw, come on, Phlegmy,” he cooed, scooting towards her, his black eyes glittering. “I won’t steal it, I _promise_.”

“Mmm… _nah_. If I find my spare one, I’ll give it to you. But this one’s definitely mine; I’m not lending it to _anyone_.” Another sphere flew from the holder.

“Fine,” Peeves pouted, crossing his arms and falling back into the chair. “I’m not answering then.”

Dandrane shrugged, sliding off the desk. “Fair enough.”

The witch walked to his other side and began to sort through the drawers, pulling out folders and slapping them on the desk, opening them to glance only at the top sheet of paper. As a pyramid-bubble bobbed away from her, Peeves found himself watching her and picking up a few smaller details he never noticed before:  she was wearing little golden stars in her ears, her left ear had a golden ball-like piercing the top, and the ends of her sunglasses looked like they were almost digging into her skin.

“Hey Phlegmy, why do you wear those things all the time?”

Another sphere escaped the holder as Dandrane opened another drawer, talking between clenched teeth as she tried not to let the holder drop. “Wear what?”

“Those _sunglasses_. Is life not _dark_ enough for you?” The poltergeist sneered playfully.

Dandrane laughed hard enough to make the next bubble pop with a resounding bang. “Oh, _that_. I just don’t like too much sunlight in my eyes.”

“Oh come off it, you wear them at night, too.”

“Oh, _alright_ ,” Dandrane pushed her glasses up onto her hair, where it stuck in-between the spikes; her eyes just seemed to pop out against her vibrant hair as she momentarily glanced at him. “That’s only half of it. I’m not telling you the other reason, though, you’ll have to work it out yourself. Ah- _ha_!” the witch exclaimed as she pulled out another folder. “Here it is, ‘Week 2, Grade 7’. See you around, Peeves… Oh, before I forget,” she looked at him, a playful smile on her lips despite her sincere tone, “thanks for putting those tarantulas in my other desk last week. That really helped me out.”

Peeves watched as she sauntered out her office door, pausing halfway through the doorway to mockingly blow him a kiss and push her shades back on her face before she made her way to the classroom one floor below, the door closing slowly behind her.

“Pervert,” the poltergeist muttered to himself as he rifled through the files she had pulled out, forcing his mind back on his original task and away from thoughts of just how damn fucking good she looked in heels.

*~*~*~*~*

October was drawing ever closer, a mere six days away, and Peeves was in a wonderful mood after playing around with some fourth years he found wandering ‘innocently’ through the upper halls. It had been almost two weeks since he had last seen Dandrane – not to say he didn’t visit her rooms when she was out, of course. He had broken her instruments through some juggling practice, cracked one of her creature tanks (and borrowing one of her dark, spiky fish to throw into a student toilet, which yielded great results), and one day he thoroughly enjoyed stacking all of the desks and chairs into one enormous pile, leaving an unsuspecting class to try and get them undone before the professor walked in. (She, of course, had laughed her ass off at the sight, though he wasn’t sure if it was the faces of the panicked students or the whole situation she was laughing at.) Then there was her office, where he had managed to turn every one of her books and accordion folders upside down and completely arrange them at random on her shelves. He was sure that kept her busy, even if she probably just ended up using magic to turn them all around.

Despite all that he had done already, he was feeling like he wanted to pay her a more _personal_ visit. Zipping himself through the floors and ceilings in a sort of zig-zag pattern, keeping his eyes open for any other potential targets, he let his mind wander. He felt like today should be special. He wanted to do something _new_ to Phlegmy. _But what to do…_

Before he knew it, he almost bypassed the professor’s office. He almost didn’t realize where he was; there was now a brass _shi_ standing by the familiar oak door, staring at the opposite wall as if it didn’t see him. Its mouth was open and one of its paws was balanced on a brass ball, but it gave no sign of movement. Peeves decided to pay it no mind and flung the door open with a grand shove.

Dandrane looked up from her desk, hunched over with a quill almost dripping in red ink. “Hey, Peeves,” she said in a relieved voice, shoving her sunglasses onto the top of her head in a swift move as the door swung closed. “What’re you up to?”

The poltergeist floated over her desk, peering at the paper she was grading. She had made several strikes over the numbered questions and appeared to be in the process of writing out explanations. “Geez, Phlegmy, are you going to give them _every_ answer?”

“Only the ones I know are struggling,” Dandrane flicked the feathered end of her quill over Peeves’ nose. “ _You_ seem cheerful. Then again, you don’t have to sit grading these things forever.” The witch leaned back in her chair, rolling her neck in a half-circle with a light cracking noise.

In that instant, Peeves mind seized on an idea; it was so obvious, so simple, he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it _earlier_.

He unceremoniously plopped himself sideways into her lap, letting his legs slip through the armrest so they could dangle over her legs unobstructed. He felt his back hit the other armrest, but he didn’t care – his physical comfort wasn’t a factor when his goal was to try making Dandrane as uncomfortable as possible. Peeves crossed his arms over his chest, staring at Dandrane with a self-satisfied smirk.

The professor stared back, looking a little astonished that the poltergeist was using her as a seat. He seemed to be waiting for her to react, but she couldn’t think of anything to say - partly because she wasn’t sure what to say in response to this very new situation, and partly because she was just plain surprised at how _bold_ he was being. _I really don’t know if he’s trying to hit on me or piss me off at this point._

“How many more do you have left, Phlegmy?”

Dandrane glanced at her stack of papers. “About twenty. Why?”

“Hmm… I think I’ll just keep you company while you finish, then,” Peeves wriggled a little further into her lap, both to make himself more comfortable and try to push the witch’s buttons.

Dandrane raised a brow, debating asking him if this was really okay, but this _was_ Peeves she was talking to – he would do what he wanted, so he wouldn’t do something he _wasn’t_ okay with. “Alright, suit yourself…” The witch resumed grading, still seeming a little bemused at the situation as she tried not to elbow Peeves in the face as she wrote. “So what got you in such a good mood, anyway?”

“Well, since you _asked_ ,” Peeves continued to gloat, “I met a couple of your little fourth years a few floors up. Seems they fancied a late-night walk. Of course, they were trying to sneak into an empty classroom, which I just so _happened_ to occupy. I ended up pelting them with half a bag of dung-bombs.”

“What were they doing there?”

“You know, the usual,” Peeves purred, trying not to look at her lips; she had painted them red today, and coupled with her mascara-covered lashes and stylish eye-liner it just made her all the more attractive. The idea of running a hand down one of her long legs flickered across his mind, but he dismissed it in fear of scaring her off too much. “Snogging.”

“I bet you ruined their mood for the rest of the night,” she said with a laugh.

Peeves wanted to respond, but he was starting to get distracted. He was close enough to her that he could smell her perfume, and the seductive combination of lavender, musk and lilies was starting to get to him. He had an impulsive desire to try and make out with her, show those stupid sloppy kiddies how it was done… He forced it down, shoving the little fantasy back into the far ends of his mind – he was a _poltergeist_ , damn it, he was designed for causing and enjoying _chaos_. It didn’t matter how damn good she smelled or how soft and warm her lap was or fucking attractive she was…

Dandrane almost made him jump in his seat when she turned to him. “Oh, by the way, I didn’t tell you! I met some more of the castle ghosts!”

“Uh…you did?” He felt so grateful for the interruption. The poltergeist actually didn’t care _what_ she talked about, as long as she didn’t give him too much of a silence, where his mind drifted into dangerous areas. 

“Yeah! I saw Nick again last week, but the other day I ran into the Grey Lady! Oh, and I saw the Fat Friar last week, too  – I wish I met him first, honestly, he’s so damn _cheerful_ , and that guy said he’d stop by to visit _me_ so I wouldn’t have to hunt the castle for him. There was someone else too, some knight…what was his name… _Trechadod_ , that was it. I got a lot of questions answered, especially from the Friar - he really helped me out with my theory on the elemental interactions with spirits.” Dandrane’s eyes shone with excitement as she beamed at him.

Peeves couldn’t help the cruel laugh that escaped him, even if he wanted to stop it. “ _Hunt the castle_? Are you trying to track them all down?!”

It didn’t seem to ruin her good mood. “Well, I’d _like_ to, honestly. I’d get a lot of different perspectives on the more delicate questions I haven’t asked yet…”

“I _knew_ it. You’re a _vulture_ , you are,” Peeves smiled nastily. “Just like your _pet_. Preying after the dead like that, _really_ …”

For the first time since he’d met her, Dandrane flushed with embarrassment, regarding him as if he’d called her a bastard child. He could feel her angry magic sinking into his body; the intimate proximity to her was giving him every last drop that seeped out of her, and the poltergeist felt it melt into his own magic. “I am _not_.”

“You _are_. Don’t deny it,” he teased, his feet bouncing slightly. “You even try to peck at them with questions.”

“Oh, shut up,” the witch returned to her grading as Peeves snickered, even as her anger was fading.

“ _Allllriiiiight,_ ” he drew out in a taunting manner, “but only because you amuse me.”

The pink-haired professor set aside the paper, an ‘A’ gracing the top of the parchment in glistening fresh ink. “Is _that_ why you decided to sit on my lap this evening?” Dandrane asked, avoiding his gaze as she began to look over another paper. “To try and aggravate me for your entertainment?”

The poltergeist gave her an impish grin. “Is it working?”

Dandrane stared at the parchment before her, her thoughts swirling as she pretended to read. Peeves sitting there was more of a slight annoyance if anything – it was more like having a large talking cat declare you as its new resting spot. She didn’t want to scare him away; even when he was being annoying, he was entertaining. “Sort of. But it’s a nice change of pace.”

Peeves tittered and sank a little lower into her lap. “Good, I think I’ll just stay here, then.”

“If you’re going to sit there all night you might as well do something to entertain _me_. I found this yesterday,” Dandrane retrieved a familiar cigarette holder from the drawer to her left. “It was buried in my bag, as usual. You can borrow it for a while, there’s Big Bubba’s in the other drawer. They form shapes easier than Drooble’s.”

Peeves plucked it out of her outstretched fingers and began to rifle through the closest desk drawer in no time. After blowing a sphere and a large pyramid bubble, he slid off her lap with an unopened bag of Big Bubba’s Bubblegum on his arm. “Thanks, Phlegmy!” he cackled as he zoomed out the door.

“Mm-hmm,” Dandrane hummed as he slammed her office door shut, not able to help the smile that formed on her face as she stuck her own bubble-blowing cigarette holder between her lips. _Typical guy; says he’ll stay with you and then rushes out the first chance he gets._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, fresh off the keyboard with a new chapter, as I promised! Now regarding the last scene here - I know fluctuation between perspectives isn't everyone's cup of tea, but I know it's common in fanfiction and I really felt I had to break Peeves' POV for a little bit. I know it kind of screws the flow of the scene a little, but I tried my best to not do that with the rest of the story. 
> 
> Y'know, Peeves is fun to write. Like, REALLY fun. I love that this guy whose an absolute menace to everyone and everything is just accepted as another [very annoying] part of the Hogwarts' experience. When I re-read the series, I literally flagged every instance I found of him either directly talking or being mentioned in the books to get the best idea of his character as possible. (My favorites are when he talks about spotting Sirius to Dumbledore in PoA and when he's singing that taunting song to Harry in his first scene in OoTP.) When it comes to how he talks, I know he sounds more normal here than in the books, but to be fair, we only got so much dialogue from him, and he seems to talk differently to different sorts of people. I did incorporate the addition of '-ie's to certain labels as he is wont to do, but in the first 5 books he doesn't do that as much as people seem to think. I blame HBP - specifically, that scene where he fucking _apparates_ after the house-elves and tries to egg on their fight. That scene was written weird, even for Peeves. (I easily worked in how Peeves' apparates into the story, but it still boggles me that that's even possible. You'll see eventually that it boggles Dandrane's mind, too.) I think in the next A/N I'll talk about his design! You guys probably know what I based him off anyway, but I still want to talk about it!
> 
> Now sadly, I won’t be able to share the Halloween portion of the story by the 31st, which is a damn shame since it has some great bits in it. But I really wanted to split the story up evenly, even if some of the chapters are shorter than other, so that's just how things are. The next chapter is only ten pages, but it has some of my favorite scenes so far, so I hope it makes up for it! And chapter five…woo boy, that one’s almost twenty pages! It should be a week until the next update. I need to tweak things, work on the ‘November’ scenarios, and make sure I’ve kept track of all my little side-plots. So for now, have a Happy Halloween, my lovelies! Please leave kudos in my candy bucket, okay? ←～（o ｀▽´ )oΨ


	4. Council Chaos

October had begun to whip its autumn wind through the grounds of Hogwarts, the familiar scent of decaying plant life beginning to spring in the air as a storm bellowed overhead. Rain pattered harshly at the windows as thunder and lightning pierced the sky, cracks and booms rattling the castle’s glass.

It was definitely the kind of night Peeves adored. Mother Nature was causing chaos to the point where even the Great Hall’s enchanted sky had poured rain over the tables during dinner, and the poltergeist had a damn good laugh at the student’s screams of distress. The only thing that could make this night better was if one of the kids had dropped a Fanged Frisbee or Screaming Yo-Yo somewhere. He knew there was at least half a dozen hidden away in Filch’s locked confiscation-cabinet, but what would be the point in stealing them? It was better when they were half-hidden behind a statue or stuck in a toilet, just begging for him to nick. It would take a few solid months of not having anything to play with before he resorted to sneaking them from the janitor’s office, and that hadn’t been necessary in the past thirty or forty years.

For now, Peeves leisurely drifted through classrooms and hallways, keeping his eyes peeled for any hidden stashes of goodies or any wee student beastie up to who-knows-what. He was just peeking through an empty classroom’s teaching desk  - he’d found all _kinds_ of things hidden away in those over the years - spying a new issue of _PlayWizard_ shoved in a drawer next to a half-empty bottle of Fire-Whiskey with the Three Broomstick’s stamp on it when a rather posh male voice rang out behind him.

“ _There_ you are, Peeves, I’ve been looking for you _everywhere_!” Nearly-Headless Nick called out as he phased through the chalkboard, looking exhausted. “The Grey Lady called for a Ghost Council earlier this evening. Didn’t you hear?”

Peeves shoved the drawer closed, giving the ghost an annoyed look. “No, I _didn’t_. No one told me.” _And if they did I still wouldn’t care._

“Ah, well… Now you know. There’s no reason for you not to come. It’s going to start soon, so we should get a move on,” the almost-headless ghost began to drift to the door, proper as always.

“Why do _I_ have to go? As you love to point out, I’m technically not one of _you_ lot!”

Sir Nicholas sighed, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. Sometimes he wished he had never brought that up.Even if Peeves wasn’t actually bitter about being excluded (and Sir Nicholas got the impression that sometimes Peeves really _was_ ), he did like to try and weasel out of things whenever possible. “Because Miss Ravenclaw sent me to fetch you _personally_. We don’t have all night, you know.”

“You’ve got all _eternity_ , keep your pants on,” The grinning poltergeist followed the irritated ghost out, making a mental note to come back later when he knew he wouldn’t be interrupted. “So _why_ are we having a Council, again?”

“I’m not sure. The Grey Lady has been thinking rather hard for the past couple of days, though,” Sir Nicholas passed through the staircases, heading towards the farthest corner of the ground floor, where no doubt there would be an empty classroom for them to use. “She seemed to have had a revelation earlier this evening. Harriet said it had something to do with a teacher.”

“That gossipy bint? She only hears what she wants to hear!” Peeves cackled as he flipped in mid-air. Harriet was a proud ghost of a witch, but she was the sort who liked to spread rumors. Peeves’ personal favorite had always been the one about how he had planned to ambush the caretaker with half the armory.

The gentlemanly ghost pursed his lips as his transparent cheeks flushed slightly silver. “She may be inclined to chatter now and then, Peeves, but that does not warrant _that_ sort of insult.”

“ _Sure_ it does. Don’t you remember your own Death Day party? She spent most of it ‘chatting’ to anyone she met about how you tried to cut your head off in the armory the night before.”

“Oh she did _not_ ,” Sir Nicholas grumbled. “And how would _you_ know, you left partway through to chuck peanuts at Miss Myrtle.”

“That was five minutes, tops. I got back when the Headless lot were trotting around playing polo, couldn’t mistake that nattering voice talking to that group of nuns. ‘Oh, I shouldn’t mention it, but Nicky’s always tried to get off that extra inch of skin!  Tried to take an enchanted sword to it last night, he did!’” Peeves imitated in an annoying too-high pitch. “She switched it to an axe when she was trying to flirt with that gutted executioner.”

Sir Nicholas, now with a somewhat sour expression on his ghostly visage, floated partway through the door when Peeves unceremoniously yanked it open so it clattered against the stone wall. Half a second later it slammed shut behind them with a resounding ‘bang’, but the ghosts were so used to this sort of behavior that no one bothered to look up at them.

The other thirteen ghosts were clustered together at the long table, half on one side and five sitting together as close as possible to avoid the Baron’s seat at the far end, where he sat with a horribly glum look. Peeves knew why – the Grey Lady had chosen to sit at the head of the table, as far from her murderer as possible. As Sir Nicholas squeezed between the Fat Friar and a sleeping Professor Binns, Peeves noisily dragged a chair to sit behind a group of ghosts, figuring he wasn’t going to be included in the conversation anyways, and pulled out his borrowed cigarette holder. The Grey Lady called for order just as the poltergeist began to blow a large pink cube.

“That’s better. I have called this Ghost Council today for one reason,” the Grey Lady remained standing, choosing to look over the table as if she were giving a presentation. “Within the past two weeks I have been asked several odd questions by one of our esteemed professors. I didn’t think much of it until four nights ago, when two of you mentioned that you had spoken with her as well, and the layers of questions have painted a rather bizarre picture. One that, frankly, has me _concerned_.”

A ghost with rather singed robes and a hag-like appearance raised her hand courteously. “Pardon me, your ladyship, but _who_ has spoken with you?”

“The Defense Professor - Miss Flemming,” the lady stated. “I know myself, Sir Nicholas and Sir Trechadod have talked to her. Has anyone else been questioned?”

The Fat Friar raised his large hand halfway off the table, a polite smile gracing his face. “I’ve seen her twice now, but one time I deliberately went to her office,” – the tiny bubble on Peeves’ holder popped prematurely, but no one paid any notice – “and I found her quite delightful! She’s excellent company, and so polite,” the Friar doted, practically radiating positivity.

Moaning Myrtle scoffed in her seat, her miserable appearance seeming even worse than usual, making her look like the very definition of a wet blanket. “Well _I_ found her rather rude. She kept asking me about how I moved through the toilets! Like it was any of _her_ business!” Silvery tears began to form at the corners of her eyes. “I wanted to flush her down one, see how _she_ liked it…”

A miniature pink sailboat began to drift over some of the ghost’s heads, drawing the curious gazes of several of the table’s occupants. “ _I_ found Phlegmy rather charming,” Peeves commented from his chair, where he sat with his legs swung over the armrests, admiring his cigarette holder with a devilish smile that reached his glittering black eyes. “Girl’s got a good sense of humor.” He blew another bubble, this time a big rectangle, and watched it drift away from him.

“ _You’ve_ spoken to her?” Sir Nicholas asked with a definite note of distrust in his voice. “We are talking about being _questioned_ , Peeves, not just taunting the woman.”

Peeves just continued to grin. “No, _no_ , we’ve spoken _several_ times now; Phlegmy and I are on _excellent_ terms,” He purred as he rolled the cigarette holder between his fingers. “I tell you, she may peck at you lot, but she’s got enough taste to find _me_ fascinating.” 

Concerned murmurs followed, and Peeves blew another bubble, stretching it into the shape of an arrow.

“Quiet, please, _quiet_. Peeves, what kind of questions did she ask you?” The Grey Lady asked thoughtfully.

“Well now that’s between me and Phlegmy, that is,” Peeves beamed, letting the gum-arrow fly loose. He had thought about revealing her in-the-works book, but that would take all the fun out of the surprise…  It wasn’t any of their business, anyway. “’s not like they’re important.”

“How many times has she come to see you?”

The poltergeist cackled, rocking his chair backward. “See _me_? Now _that’s_ funny – your ladyship, she asked me to come see _her_!”

The Ravenclaw house-ghost’s brow furrowed at the unexpected response. “How many times and when?”

“There are no _set times_ ,” Peeves suppressed a giggle. “Just come and go whenever I please! I’ve paid her a visit at least three times now.”

The house-ghost seemed almost lost in thought. “I see… Has she asked you any questions about the castle?”

“Nope.”

“Any questions about the other ghosts in the castle?”

“Technically, yes.”

The Grey Lady hummed, staring at the ceiling where the bubble-boat had begun to spin around lazily from the impact and seemed to be heading towards the opposite wall. “Does she have any record of your conversations?”

“Yup.”

The ghost hummed again, looking somewhat worried. “She asked Sir Nicholas how he wrote letters, asked me if I could interact with the fireplaces, asked Myrtle if she could interact with the plumbing… Friar, what did Miss Flemming ask _you_?”

The Friar looked a little taken aback at suddenly being addressed, but he seemed eager to talk. “Oh, well, the first time I just gave her directions to the library, and we got on to the topic of Ravenclaw tower somehow, but the second time I told her the story of how I died – she seemed curious how a friar from Hufflepuff could end up as a ghost! Rather surprised her when I told her I was put to death for using healing magic behind the clergy’s back,” the portly ghost chuckled. “Oh, and she asked if I had ever met Professor Bartlett and if he had a habit of ignoring the post. There was something about her writing him a letter…”

“I see… How strange.”

Peeves rolled his eyes, letting a large bubble pop in his holder with a bang. “Oh _please_ , she’s clearly trying to learn _more_ about you lot, what’s so weird about that?”

The Grey Lady begun to float over the floor as if she were pacing back and forth. “They all relate back to the castle or ourselves… I wonder… I might just be being paranoid, but we have guarded Hogwart’s darkest secrets for centuries, and for all we know Miss Flemming might be trying to leak secrets about the castle to the outside. Even though we ghosts cannot interact much with the world, we are still a line of defense. We need someone to keep an eye on her, just to make sure she doesn’t learn anything too important about the castle or figure out a way to exorcise us. I’d do it myself, but I have my house duties.”

“I’ll volunteer,” the Fat Friar beamed, “She said she enjoys my company.”

The Grey Lady stared at him pointedly. “No offense, Friar, but we need someone a little less friendly, and you have your house to look after, too… Peeves, I think _you_ should do it.”

The cigarette holder in the poltergeist’s hand drooped dramatically. “ _What?_ ”

Nearly-Headless Nick looked rather taken aback. “ _Him_? My dear Lady, Peeves is not exactly _trustworthy_. Not to mention, he _could_ potentially drive her up the wall-”

“Even Peeves defends the castle when he’s needed,” the Grey Lady interjected. “Peeves, you said yourself that you were on good terms with Miss Flemming. If you’re really as friendly as you say,” she narrowed her eyes, looking deadly serious, “then she won’t suspect you of spying.”

Peeves stared at her as if she had grown a second head, hardly believing his ears. They wanted _him_ , a notorious prankster and master of chaos, to act as a spy to a clever woman who he had made _clear_ that he was friendly with. Did they not realize he could just lie about it all, even if the pink-haired professor _was_ trying to divulge Hogwart’s secrets? Did they even know what kind of person the professor really was?

“I agree,” a low, deep voice spoke from the end of the table; the Bloody Baron had finally spoken, looking as intimidating as ever. “You can report back what she’s done the next time we meet.”

“I think someone should check up on him occasionally, just to make sure he’s doing what he’s told,” Sir Nicholas cast a doubtful glance across the table at the mischievous spirit as the table murmured in agreement.

The Grey Lady turned to the poltergeist, her gaze stern. “And Peeves, try to read through her notes. I want to know what else she’s writing down,” the ghost turned back to the table as Professor Binns finally stirred himself awake. “I say we meet again before Christmas, unless there’s an emergency. Council is adjourned.”

As the ghosts all wandered off, Peeves shot through the walls as violently as he could, deciding to head up to the astronomy tower and break some telescopes before the Bloody Baron resumed his nightly stroll of the place. _Fucking paranoid assholes…_ _Make ME do their dirty work, huh? I’ll show ‘em…_

*~*~*~*~*

Peeves found himself stalling as he stared at the stone floor separating Professor Flemming’s second-floor office and the armory. It had been two days since the council meeting; two days he spent avidly avoiding the Defense professor as much as possible. He knew eventually he’d _have_ to see her, and it wasn’t like he wanted to stay away… Dandrane was far too much of an oddity to not find her entertaining, and he rather enjoyed her asking those nosy little questions, even if he didn’t understand what they all led to in the end. It just felt weird to _have_ to see what she was up to, rather than do it whenever he felt like it.

He glared at the armory floor as he floated above it. It had been awfully quiet down there for the past few days, too. He had gotten accustomed to hearing snippets of muggle rock music when he went by her office after-hours, so it was strange to float around and not hear wailing electric guitars or synthesizers coming from her rooms. Either she wasn’t in a good mood or she was too absorbed in something. Thinking the former cause sounded like a bit of fun, Peeves decided to bite the bullet and phase himself down through the stone, pushing through her ceiling as her wards gently nudged around him.

Dandrane was surrounded by pieces of parchment in various stacks, following the words with the tip of her fountain pen. It seemed she had gotten tired of breaking quills, as three sat snapped in half in her bin. Her fauxhawk looked as if she had severely ruffled her hair and her little round sunglasses reflected the lights on the chandelier in a strange fashion, making her look a little sinister – it wasn’t helped by her scowl. Peeves could feel little waves of angry magic radiating from her, absentmindedly thinking that if he could put a flavor to it, he’d guessed it would be something mildly spicy.

The poltergeist floated down headfirst until he was almost at eye-level. “Why so glum, Phlegmy?” He taunted in a low voice.

The woman lifted her head to gaze at him, the light bouncing off her dark lenses even more dramatically. “I’m not _glum_. I’m _pissed_.”

Peeves couldn’t help the snicker that escaped him. “Ooh, you must be in a _real_ mood there, Phlegmy. What’s got our ickle professie’s panties in such a twist?”

The professor whipped the piece of parchment she had been reading off the desk, holding it up for him to see; he noticed little flecks of red ink had splattered on her hand and the dark blue sleeve of her suit. The paper was clearly someone’s essay, covered in little marks correcting both grammatical and factual errors. “THIS. _Look_ at this! This is _shit_!” She shook it slightly before slamming it back down. “I tell you, Peeves, you’re a sight for sore eyes. I’ve been looking through these things for ages, and they’re almost ALL like this!” The witch gestured to a pile of papers covered in red slash marks. “I can’t believe it! They’re fucking FIFTH years, for Merlin’s sake! It’s like those little morons don’t pick up a fucking BOOK!”

Dandrane’s little outburst caused the chandelier above his head to sway somewhat, making the candlelight flicker. Peeves was finding this rather humorous, as well as enjoying the feeling of her angry magic dispersing in the air.

“How do they expect to pass their O.W.L.s with this shit?” Dandrane grumbled into her hand, moving aside a whole pile of graded essays to look at the little clock on her desk. “Eleven-thirty. Figures.”

“Well, if it _helped_ ,” Peeves grinned mischievously, flipping upright and delicately fingering the largest pile of parchment. “I could just let my hand slip these straight into the fireplace,” He nudged the stack with his index finger, watching her lips twitch into a tiny smile. “No one would ever blame _you_.”

“That’s sweet, Peeves, but that doesn’t get rid of the real problem. But you’re on the right track,” With a grand sweep of her arm, Dandrane pushed all the papers off her desk, where they scattered to the floor, some ending up underneath a chair and others stopping just before the bookcase. “Fuck grading, I need a _drink_.”

Peeves beamed approvingly as the professor retrieved a new bottle of port from one of her desk’s drawers, noticing that she had several different bottles of wine and liqueur stored away, all in varying stages of fullness. The witch popped the cork out with her wand, looking satisfied as she transfigured it into a wine glass and filled it almost to the brim. “You want a glass?”

Peeves snorted as he decided to sit on the edge of her desk smack in front of her so his feet rested on her legs. He had a habit of breaking empty glasses. “Just gimme the bottle.”

“Alright,” Dandrane chuckled, passing him the bottle. “Just try not to chug it all in one go,” She proceeded to knock back a third of her glass, giving him an amused smirk as she set it back down. “So what brings you to my little corner of hell today?”

“Ah, you know, the usual; hadn’t seen you in over ten days, figured I’d pop by and see how you’re coping, see if you got any further in your little research project...”

“Well you _are_ a real sweetheart today, huh? Here’s to coping,” she raised her glass and took a large gulp. “I’m surprised you’re so interested. Although I guess it makes sense, it _is_ about you.”

“You know me so well already, Phlegmy, I’m _flattered_ ,” Peeves said as he jokingly batted his lashes.

“Unfortunately for you, I’ve been stuck in a writer’s block for a week now. I can’t seem to put anything I want to say into _words_ ,” she sighed, shoving her sunglasses on top of her head. The witch drained the rest of her glass and began to pour another one while Peeves still held the bottle. “At least I know how my Dad feels when he’s struggling with a story.” Dandrane watched as Peeves took another swig, her eyes growing curious. “Do you eat every day, like humans?”

“Nah, only when I want some excitement.”

Dandrane swirled the sweet wine around in her glass, regarding him with a newfound interest. “Really? What do you like to eat?”

“ _Aside_ from liquor? Anything sugary or spicy; Hot Curry Pepper Imps are good when I can get my hands on ‘em.”

“So if you don’t eat often, how do you get all that energy?” Her sly grin matched the Ravenclaw-ish gleam in her eyes.

The poltergeist just gave her a mysterious smile, answering in his sing-song voice. “From people.”

“Oh come on, Peeves, you’ve got to give me more than _that_.”

“Maybe I will, but _first_ ,” When Dandrane opened her mouth to speak, Peeves held up a finger as he drained all but the bottom eighth of the bottle. “I should tell you - I had to sit in at the ghost council the other night and they told me to _spy_ on you. Seems they think you’re going to try and destroy the castle from the inside by learning its secrets or some shit like that.”

The witch let out a great cackle, nearly spilling her drink as she shook with laughter. “Who-Who even brought that _up_?”

Peeves grinned, swishing the bottle back and forth as he watched her. “The Grey Lady seems to have over-thought a lot of it, but the rest of the ghosts suspect you, too. Well, except _me_ , of course.”

“I suppose I should thank you, then,” Dandrane scooted her chair a little closer to the desk, coming to rest an arm on one of his legs as she raised her glass to him in a toast with a grin and finished the glass; Peeves drained the last of the bottle, partially to distract himself from the warm feeling of her arm on his thigh. “Why would I want to bring down a school in a year, anyway?”

The poltergeist casually chucked the empty port bottle into the fireplace, where it shattered spectacularly. The witch just withdrew another bottle from her drawer, this time an opened crème de menthe. “It would be some ride to let the public know the juicier secrets Hogwarts has buried,” Peeves said somewhat dreamily, his cheeks tinted lavender from drink. “Complete _chaos_.”

Dandrane raised a brow. “Well I know better to ask about _that_. But seriously, I _work_ here, and the public knows even more about Hogwarts thanks to that big exposé piece the papers ran when they interviewed all those students who claimed they went to school with Harry Potter. I mean, we all learned about the basilisk that lived in the Chamber of Secrets until his second year, about the secret Defense Club he founded in his fifth year when that shit-stain of a Ministry official took over, and how there used to be a secret room of hidden things until some idiot used fiend-fyre in it. I have absolutely no reason to tell the world about the school when people have already done that _for_ me!” The witch transfigured the twist-off cap of the liqueur bottle into a small glass and poured some of the sweet drink for him. “But I do want to tell the world a bit more about _you_. You really don’t know how rare you are in the world; there are so many questions to have answered… Like, how do you get people’s energy?”

“You really wanna know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

“…I absorb it,” Peeves said as nonchalantly as possible, eyeing the emerald liqueur as he swished it around in his glass, resisting his natural impulse to throw it. “You know how you made the chandelier sway around earlier? It comes from stuff like that.”

“… _Oh_ ,” Comprehension was beginning to dawn on her, a new spark of thought lighting up her eyes. Dandrane leaned back; she tapped her chin with her finger in thought as Peeves pushed her old office-chair back and forth on its wheels in an effort to mildly annoy her. After a minute of this, she put her arm back over his legs to stop him – the warmth of it seeped through his clothes rather easily, it seemed – and she whipped out a miniature notepad, beginning to write in mid-air. “Peeves, if I write out a full theory later on how that works, would you tell me whether or not it’s right?”

“ _May_ be.”

Dandrane smiled, her ice-blue gaze warm with humor as she continued to write as fast as possible. “Should’ve known you’d say that. Could you at least tell me how many ghosts live in the castle?” Her pen scratched so fast Peeves wondered how she would able to read her notes.

“Fourteen. Why, is our vulture going to take one or two home with her?”

“You tease,” the witch glanced up at him quickly, her voice sounding just a tad more sultry than normal. “If I had the option, I’d take _you_ home.”

He didn’t know if it was the alcohol flooding his brain or if he was just being stupid, but Peeves thought it sounded an awful lot like she was coming onto him. The way she said it certainly didn’t sound like her _normal_ teasing. The poltergeist drained his glass, letting the sweet minty liqueur distract him momentarily. “ _Now_ who’s the tease,” he laughed, chucking the glass at the window, where it smashed and created a very fine crack spreading in the castle’s nearly-ancient glass, which Dandrane repaired with a flick of her wand.

Peeves picked himself off the desk and floated to the wall on his left, trying not to think too hard. He heard her bid him goodnight, but didn’t dare turn around to face her, truthfully not wanting to discover whether she had been joking with him or not.

A bounce around the trophy room sounded good about now. With any luck, he’d happen upon someone on the way to take out some energy on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, back from Halloween with a fresh chapter for you all! Like I said last time, this chapter is short, but as you can see it has some very important points. Namely, Peeves sort of has to spy on Dandrane now. Hmm!  
> Okay, strap yourself in, because I'm gonna talk about what I wanted to last time: Peeves design! As we all know, he was never in the movies. The one scene that was filmed for his character has never seen the light of day because the director didn’t like the way he looked. So the films are nothing to go by here. (I really want to see it, though! I don’t care how he looked at the time, I just want to know what scene they used!)  
> The first two games, both on handheld devices and the PC versions, had Peeves! He actually had a good design, for the most part – he was short, he wore loud clothes, he had a wide, grinning face and a deathly blue skin tone, and the second you looked at him you knew he was going to be an annoying little shit. However, the games had two (well, technically three) flaws for his design: they always made him transparent, which he is canonically not (see Philosopher’s/Sorcerer’s Stone, he is described as having a solid body and being very colorful in comparison to the castle ghosts, but he can go through solid objects); he never wore the belled hat or the curly-toed shoes that was described in the books (though he did have pointy-ish shoes, I guess); and in the earliest PC game he looked like Peter Lorry for some reason. The later incarnations of the early PC games deviated from the Lorry look, but Peeves’ overall design changed drastically for the sequel games later on, and not in a good way. The game developers took the interesting design from the earliest games and twisted it to look fucked up beyond repair. I mean, why the fuck would they put him in a judge outfit??? That doesn’t even make any sense! Like, _AT ALL!!!_ Seriously, go look at a picture or watch a Let’s Play that shows his later form, he looks fucking WEIRD. (I mean a fucking _powdered judge’s wig?_ On _Peeves???_ What were they THINKING?!) Although, I will say I liked Peeves’ voice in most of the games. He has a high-pitch cackle that suits him.  
>  So I based Peeves’ design after the earlier games, where he has a very flashy outfit (complete with bow-tie, which he canonically wears) and sleeked parted hair. I added in the canonical curly-toed shoes, but made it so Peeves doesn’t wear his belled hat every day, so it’s up to the reader most of the time if they want to picture him wearing it or not. Since Peeves is a non-being, I wanted him to look less human, so I made his ears pointed like many other humanoid creatures and left his skin a very light blue to be reminiscent of a corpse. I also figured he swapped out clothes occasionally, so he has several different colors of similar suits as well as a couple of much older looking outfits (he had more, but some did not stand the test of time).  
> And as for how handsome he is…well, that’s up to the reader, really. I kept his canon description of “a little man with a wide face, black hair and black eyes” and put his physical appearance of a [thin] man standing at 4’8” somewhere between his mid-thirties to early forties with a pointy longer nose. Originally I made him 4’, but I learned that technically, a person at 4’10 or below is considered to be “little”, so I made him half a foot taller. They never described Peeves as ugly or terrifying to look at (outside of his outfit, height, and almost-permanent maniacal grin, he doesn’t seem to have any special physical attributes, unlike Snape, who has a long-ass list of descriptions), so I assume our darling poltergeist is either average or somewhat good looking…you know, for an annoying little shit. (രᴗര๑)╭ ～ ♡  
> Now, I think I’ll put up the next chapter on the 9th, and Chapter 6 a week after that. I spent all day yesterday re-reading, editing, and researching a little more to make sure I have the next couple of chapters ready to publish. I honestly don’t know how fast I can get the next chapters out after that, since I’m still in the process of writing them and I have Thanksgiving coming up. What’ll happen will happen, but I can guarantee at least ONE chapter will be uploaded in December. I suppose I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. I just hope it won’t be a _bridge too far_! Oh ho ho ho!  
>  P.S. Changed Sinistra's first name to her canonical name of 'Aurora' - hats off to whoever edited her HP Wiki entry recently!


	5. Tapes and Trophies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (EDIT NOTICE: "American Ministry" is now "Magical Congress [of the United States of America]" to coincide with one of the few Pottermore canons concerning my country that I actually liked. Since JKR didn't give a huge list of departments, though, I made my own. Dandrane specifically worked in the Ministry of Defense branch.)

Despite the fact that it was smack-dab in the middle of October, which for Scotland meant cold nights and crisp mornings, Dandrane insisted on sleeping with at least one window open. It had been sunny for the past couple of days, so the witch was getting very used to waking up to the sunshine bouncing into her bedroom as it reflected off the Black Lake, Mother Nature greeting her with the picturesque scene of the dawn’s light illuminating the bounty of colorful trees. On this particular morning, however, Dandrane was curled up under her covers, snoozing away as a comforting chilly breeze whirled over her.

“ _Psst_ , Phlegmy! _Phlegmy_!” Peeves snickered in a low voice as he gave a sharp poke at her arm. “Earth to Professorhead!”

Dandrane gave an annoyed groan and rolled onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow. “Not now…sleeping…”

“Okay, but don’t blame me if you’re late for class,” Peeves sang, giving another hard poke to her back. “I’ll just be here, rooting through your things.”

“But I graduated already…” The pink-haired witch turned her head, half-asleep, to see the poltergeist sorting through her half-unpacked trunk. She casually glanced at the little clock on her nightstand – the little hand topped with a shooting star indicated it was after ten.

“OH _SHIT_!” Not bothering to even try and be modest, Dandrane almost tumbled out of bed in nothing but a well-worn _Slayer_ t-shirt as she hurried to the bathroom. _How the fuck did I sleep through my alarm?!_

“What made our professie decide to have a lie-in?” Peeves taunted from the other room.

Dandrane hurriedly splashed her face with cold soapy water in a half-hearted attempt to wash it, her mind racing. “I don’t know; I only stayed up ‘til two this time!”

Peeves peeked his head around the door, his eyes alight with humor. “ _Only_ two? What were-” he paused, expression frozen on his face as he realized the professor was half-naked, catching a heavy glimpse of her yellow cotton underwear. “Aren’t you _cold_ like that?”

“I’m used to it,” the witch replied as she ran a greased comb through her hair to help sleek it backwards; there was no time for her to prep it for spiking when her hair looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in two days. “It’s a little colder here, but it’s still nice, you know?”

The spirit blinked. He was clearly visible in the mirror, and she wasn’t trying to throw things at him to get him to leave or attempting to cover herself up. She was just standing there, now applying mascara as fast as humanly possible, as if walking around in her underwear was a common thing to do in front of a guy. Sure, he could argue it wasn’t too different from that rather revealing nightgown she had worn when he first visited her, but even then he considered that much more of a tantalizing-but-tasteful sort of situation versus outright seeing her in almost nothing. He wasn’t sure if it all had something to do with her messy habitual nature or whether she really didn’t care what she looked like in front of others, but it made him feel weird; it was refreshing, yet the stupid thought that maybe she just didn’t see _him_ as a guy made his inhuman heart lurch. He went back to sorting through her trunk, wanting a distraction from both the nice view and his negative train of thought.

Dandrane left the bathroom a minute later, having put on perfume, earrings shaped like crossbones, and what seemed to be yesterday’s trousers (he had seen them on the floor previously and it still had a belt in it, so they were _probably_ yesterday’s). “Okay, that’s at least _half_ an outfit now, no more need to rush. You haven’t seen my orange sweater anywhere, have you?”

Peeves shrugged from his spot over the floor, deciding to flick through one of the comics she had buried amidst some of her clothes; he soon decided to actually read it, as the main character had run over a zombie with his car only a few pages in.

The witch began to sort through the stuff near him on the floor. “Oh, hey, I was looking for _Goon_ other day, where did you find it?”

“Bottom drawer.”

“Oh, near the socks, I should’ve thought of that,” Dandrane said with a little laugh as she pulled an orange sweater with a giant jack-o-lantern face on it out of her clothes pile. “You should probably turn around, babe.”

Peeves raised an eyebrow, about to question why when he noticed she was pulling her t-shirt over her head. Despite having her back to him, Peeves felt heat rush to his face. If she just moved _slightly_ to the left he’d see her breasts. Again, the thought that she felt so comfortable doing something as racy as getting dressed in her bedroom, in front of a man she was not in a relationship with, flitted across his mind. He really wasn’t sure what he should take away from this. Did she really not give a shit about societal norms, or did she really not think of him as a normal man at _all_?

He couldn’t help but stare at her as she slid on a lime-green bra, suddenly noticing the long scar that began at the bottom of her shoulder blade and stopped at the beginning of her jeans. Aside from a few moles, it was the only thing marring the admirably smooth skin of her back.

“How did _that_ happen?” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could even vaguely consider stopping them.

“Hm?” The witch turned her head as she clasped her bra together, following his gaze. “Oh, _that_. That happened during a ghost hunt in California years ago. I’d give you the details, but it’s a long story and I’ve got,” she threw a glance at her bedside table, her eyes widening with alarm. “ _Five minutes?!_ Shit!” She shoved the jack-o-lantern sweater over her head and yanked on the nearest pair of socks as the sweater’s smiling pumpkin face morphed into an expression of unfiltered panic. “Boots, _boots_ , where the fuck are my _boots?!_ ” Dandrane half-sang to herself as she dashed to look under her bed, her eyes skirting over her room.

Peeves watched her rush around as he absorbed the magic she was leaking with every step. Even now, he couldn’t help but grin at her misfortune; he’d seen her so calm and collected so often before that he was getting a kick out of her panicking. He had enjoyed seeing her angry last time, but it all added up to the equivalent to a swig or two of water, and this occasion was like having another gulp. Still, it was better than nothing at all, and he just liked seeing her scramble about for her shoes, throwing things aside and even stooping under her four-poster bed. Part of him wished she had done that when she didn’t have any trousers on.

“Catch you later, Phlegmy!” he waved as she almost tripped out the door with her wand in her hand. The poltergeist heard the tell-tale sounds of students milling about the Defense classroom right before the door slammed shut. The sound-proofing ward Dandrane had around her rooms was impressive – even pressing an ear against the door separating the office and the classroom’s little staircase didn’t let him hear anything.

Now that he thought of it, he never heard her give a lesson before. He heard some rumor about her forcing a student to read some book on muggleborns as punishment for insulting another kid and another one where she let certain classes have nothing but “study halls”, but he’d never really heard any about how her classes actually _went_.

He decided there was no better time than the present to find out – he willed himself invisible with a faint ‘pop’ and phased halfway through the door, hovering in the air so he could get a good view.

“Okay kids, I know this is going to be a strange way to start a class, but if any of you happen to have snuck in some coffee or toast or anything, I will literally erase your lowest quiz score if you give them to me. If not, then we’ll move right -”

A sixth-year Hufflepuff boy shot his hand up in the air and practically waved it. “Ma’am! I’ve got a cinnamon roll you can have!”

“I’ve got an orange!” A Gryffindor girl with wavy black hair exclaimed.

“I smuggled a pot of tea in here,” a Slytherin girl brought out what looked like an ink bottle before she tapped it with her wand, where it promptly turned into a large brown betty.

Peeves snorted into his hand as the professor’s sweater changed its expression to a happy relief as the she took all of the offerings, swishing her wand to bewitch the chalk into writing down the names of the generous students (and giving points to Slytherin for the girl’s ingenuity). The poltergeist watched in amusement as the woman retrieved a hefty mug, a spoon, and packets of instant creamer and sugar from one of her desk drawers. From his view over the railing, he saw a French-press in there, too. _Why ask for donations when she has a literal bag of coffee in her makeshift break room?_

“Okay, now that that’s all cleared up, we can continue where we left off last time – nonverbal spells,” Dandrane let her spoon stir her tea for her as she leaned against her desk. “Now, last lesson we just barely got to cover the basics of ‘how’: concentration and lots of practice. It’s unfortunate that many classes expect you to do nonverbal magic a lot as soon as you start to learn it, and I know for certain that it will come up on your N.E.W.T.s next year, but I know that not all of you will excel at it. It might be that you’ll only be able to levitate a cup for two seconds at the end of the year, and I’m going to tell you something I wish my teachers had told _me_ : that it’s _okay_.”

There were a little less than twenty kids in the room, half of them looking a little confused and the other half looking mildly surprised. Peeves, too, had no clue why this could be important in any way. Kids weren’t _always_ stupid – why tell them something they should’ve figured out for themselves already?

“Let me tell you, it took me five years to master non-verbals after I graduated. It took a whole year to become able to stir my cup continuously like this,” Dandrane lifted her mug at the crowd, “and another to learn how to open every door in a room at once. Learning non-verbal magic is difficult, and it takes time and patience, which I know some people simply don’t have for either learning or teaching. You might be able to summon a book towards you at the end of your education, or you might not be able to do it your whole life – but I just wanted to tell you that you shouldn’t pressure yourself too much to get it right. I will give away a secret that the magical community doesn’t like to mention, though,” Dandrane smirked as she took a long sip, letting the mass of students grow a little more interested. “If you have a wand made out of pine, you’ll have a _hell_ of an easier time doing non-verbals, and if you have a dogwood wand, you’ll want to borrow a friend’s for practice; those don’t respond to non-verbal spells at all,”

The pink-haired professor took a rather large bite of the cinnamon roll as she silently summoned a rolled up scroll of parchment for each student. “For today, I want you to copy the instructions from your scroll to any piece of paper you want, roll the scroll back up and try to silently push it away from you with the _repellere_ spell; if you misunderstand the instructions, raise your hand and I’ll come help you. And no nudging the paper with your wand, that doesn’t count,” Dandrane added with a knowing smile.

Dandrane set to sorting through a stack of fresh papers on her desk sitting in a tray marked ‘IN’, the jack-o-lantern face on her sweater settling on ‘concentration’ as the class’ faces scrunched up into similar expressions as they attempted to practice.

Realizing that nothing else interesting would happen for the rest of the period, Peeves retreated back into the witch’s bedroom to finish up _Goon_ before he figured out something else entertaining to do.

He flopped himself backwards onto the springy mattress of the four-poster, skimming the darkly-colored boxes of the comic until his mind wandered back to Dandrane’s scar. _She said_ ‘ _it happened during a ghost-hunt in California’… What the hell’s a ghost-hunt? Like people hunting down ghosts for sport or something? Is it a Muggle thing...? Any way I look at it, how the fuck did she get a deep cut that **long**? Fall on a rock? _

A rather morbid thought crossed his mind – what if she had encountered another spirit, maybe one like him, and _it_ left that scar? Maybe it cut her on purpose, using a blade or a shovel or something nearby… _Or it could’ve been an animal or magical creature. Some only have one claw._ Then again, she did say it was a long story from years ago. The way she talked about it made it seem at least a _little_ important, so spirits were probably involved…

But how was he to know for _sure_? Curiosity killed the cat, and unfortunately Peeves couldn’t die from not being able to stop the question chewing at his brain. He doubted she would be able to remember where she had it written down, if it was written at all, she had so many notebooks…

A thought struck him like a therapeutic electric shock – she recorded so much stuff on her little magical tapes that she was _bound_ to have told or referenced the story on one of them. She had literal cases of tapes in a box in her largest trunk; it was a longshot, but it just might have been mentioned on the labels.

Mentally thanking himself for going through it the other day, Peeves quickly dove head-first into the giant luggage trunk, pushed aside some of her heavier coats she had strewn about in there and seized the cardboard box full of audio-cassette tapes. Dandrane may have been messy when it came to the majority of her possessions, but her tapes were nicely labeled and quite a few were organized by number, with some looking like duplicates and most of the cassette cases bearing a very short description of the contents. He found his own taped interview sitting askew on top of the rows, feeling strangely glad that it was one of the few without a number.

None of the earliest tapes’ cases had any mentions of a California ghost-hunt, but he noticed a few that mentioned ‘hunts’ from New York, Maine, and Virginia. He pulled out the duplicate number five that mentioned New York, intent on finding out everything he could about what a ghost-hunt was, when something else caught his eye.

An un-numbered tape, at the very end of the last row, marked ‘Int. w/ Binns’. _Why would she ever condemn herself to interview **that** weezing bag of crap? _

He clutched tape five and made it halfway out of the trunk when he found himself stopping to look back at the box, the ‘Binns’ tape taunting him in clear view. The very idea that Dandrane, the woman who was so pleased to interview _him_ that she didn’t care if he scheduled it spontaneously at three A.M., graced _Binns_ with an interview was annoying.

Very, _very_ annoying.

Peeves seized the ‘Binns’ tape with a harsh grip and zoomed out of the giant trunk, shoving tape five in its place. He _hated_ that boring old windbag. What could she possibly see interesting about the most notoriously boring professor the school ever _had_?

The poltergeist examined the weird recording device sitting on her nightstand with an irritated glare. He’d seen her do this before, this shouldn’t be too hard…

Several minutes later, and Peeves was ready to throw it against the wall – he had gotten the tape in (after a dozen tries) but no matter how much he pressed ‘play’ it wouldn’t work! He began to hit buttons at random (except the big red ‘record’ button; no use ruining the tape before he got to hear two words from it) thinking that _one_ of them had to work. _This stupid fucking thing why the fuck does she use this can’t she just use a damn pensieve like everyone else-_

His finger jammed in the ‘rewind’ button, and suddenly the tape inside _moved,_ letting out a little screeching noise as the tape rewound itself. Peeves almost dropped the device in surprise, and decided to keep the thing at an arms distance in case it did something worse.

A minute later, the tape had stopped moving and nothing else happened. The spirit eyed the gizmo warily and pressed ‘play’ again, hoping for a miracle this time –

> “- _ndrane Flemming, interviewing Professor Cuthbert Binns, deceased, at Hogwarts, October eleventh, two-o-six P.M._ ”

Dandrane’s voice rang out from the tape player as if she were talking directly in front of him. The spirit set the device down on her bedclothes, crossing his legs as he deigned to sit against one of the bedposts as he listened in twisted curiosity.

> _“Thank you for allowing me to interview you, Professor. It’s not often that one hears of a ghost who actively teaches.”_
> 
> _“It’s no problem at all, Miss Flemmong, I don’t get interviewed very often.”_

Peeves winced at hearing the droning voice of the ghost mispronounce Dandrane’s name. _You wonder why no one wants to interview you when you have the dullest personality in the known universe?_

> _“Let’s start with a simple question – how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?”_
> 
> _“Oh, many years, many years… I actually lost count, now…”_
> 
> _“… I see. What made you decide to teach History of Magic?”_
> 
> _“Oh, well, it all started with my father, I suppose. He loved telling me little-known facts about magical history when I was growing up, and then of course I came to Hogwarts in the mid eighteen-hundreds. I ended up getting my History O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. very easily, the whole subject is fascinating… Goblin Wars alone captivated me for quite a while; take for instance…”_

Peeves gave an annoyed grunt as the ghostly professor started to spin a lecture on the aforementioned wars, his voice becoming drier and duller with every passing sentence. Dandrane remained silent the whole time, but Peeves could hear the faint sound of pen-scratching in the background. He wasn’t sure why she was bothering to write anything down; was it out of an actual eagerness to listen to the professor or was she writing down observations like she had done with Myrtle? The thought of the witch actually being _interested_ in what the ghostly old poof had to say made his gut burn and twitch. No one in their right _mind_ would find Binns lectures interesting…

> _“Ahem… Forgive me for interrupting you, Professor Binns, but I’m afraid we’ve gotten a bit off track.”_
> 
> _“And then in 1852 the newfound goblin army – what was that, Miss Flemonge?”_
> 
> _“When did you start teaching at Hogwarts, sir?”_
> 
> _“Oh, well that’s certainly off-topic now, but let’s see… I believe it was 1883, I applied a few years after I graduated…”_
> 
> _“1883? So you’ve taught the same subject for a hundred-and-twenty years? How do you keep it fresh?”_
> 
> _“Well history is never fresh, per se, Miss Flemonge. I do change up the tests every couple of years, of course, to prevent cheating, you understand.”_

There was a brief pause of awkward silence, and Peeves sorely wished this was a pensieve memory instead so he could see exactly what was going on.

> _“…Of course. Do you integrate any of Scotland’s mythos regarding magical beings into your lectures?”_
> 
> _“Good Merlin, no. Do you know how many ridiculous myths and stories there are? Like how the old gods blessed the lands of Hogwarts before it was founded? Or how Merlin introduced the world’s largest Kelpie into the Loch Ness? Or how he wore only blue to let himself absorb magical energy of his surroundings in the last few years of his life? They’re tales for fools, not of fact…”_
> 
> _“Even the ones about Hogwarts? It was quite a surprise to the wizarding community when they discovered there really was a Chamber of Secrets.”_
> 
> _“That is a rare exception, Miss Flemmon. I assure you that such things don’t happen often.”_
> 
> _“I see…. Now, I know my next question is a bit of a taboo subject, but if you don’t mind me asking, how did you become a ghost?”_
> 
> _“I don’t remember, really, but I was told that I had passed in my armchair the night before my first class as a ghost, you see… I didn’t know myself until one of my students had come in with Dumbledore, who was the headmaster at the time - I remember him being rather unsurprised to see me, such a funny man, always knew things…”_
> 
> _“How long ago was that?”_
> 
> _“It must have been 1965… Yes, I think it was…”_
> 
> _“So you’ve been teaching for an extra thirty-eight years… How do you remember all of your students names?”_
> 
> _“Well, I can never remember them all, there’s been so many children, you see… Oh, but that Mr. Potter, one could never forget him.”_
> 
> _“Well, many teachers here have fond memories of him, is there a particular one that comes to mind?”_
> 
> _“Well I certainly wouldn’t call them **fond** memories, Miss Flemmon – Mr. Potter was such a troublemaker, especially when Mr. Black was around. Like two peas in a pod, those two; I don’t recall a single day where they actually paid attention to my lectures. Always talking together, sleeping in class, annoying other students and making snide remarks in my lectures…”_

There was a long pause where Dandrane was rapidly writing something down. Peeves had been around enough professors writing detention notes to know that the witch’s hurried scribbling was out of irritation and not the need to cram information in as quick as possible. The poltergeist decided to take the opportunity and moved to lie on his side, staring expectantly at the recorder until the witch’s voice returned.

> _“How do you grade your students’ work?”_
> 
> _“…hm? Oh, parchment and quills are enchanted so I can use them, you know their animal-based properties already have magic, and they take so well to enchantments... I usually get another professor to that for me before I have a grading session.”_
> 
> _“One final question, if I may. In your own opinion, do you think that muggles can become ghosts once they pass on?”_
> 
> _“Now see here, Miss Flemmong, that’s the type of thinking I’m trying to discern my pupils from using. Such nonsense – muggles don’t possess any magic, they simply **can’t** become ghosts. It’s a solid **fact**. There has never been a single fully-documented case of a muggle ghost in wizarding history.”_
> 
> _“Really? Did you know that in 1995 a witch in the Muggle Relations office of the Canadian Ministry of Magic documented several instances of unexplainable paranormal occurrences resembling muggle ghost stories? Her most infamous case was when she was summoned to deal with a muggle house that the ministry suspected had been possessed by a poltergeist or been enchanted; any family who bought the house would leave in a matter of months and then sell it to whoever bid on it first. The last muggle family told wild stories of hearing voices, finding their things on the opposite side of the room, having bizarre dreams involving the same stranger telling them to leave; all kinds of things. The witch in question could find no such curses or any known form of magic on the property, and confirmed that there was no poltergeist, boggart or magical creature on the premises – she ended up burning the house down after staying in it only a week._
> 
> _“Just something interesting to think about, Professor Binns. Thank you for your time.”_

Peeves laughed as he heard the squeak of chair legs before the air was filled with a stony silence, despite the tape having a quarter of black stuff left on the second spinning wheel. _Oh, Phlegmy, that was **cold**! _ He cackled harder, collapsing onto the purple bedcover next to the tape-recorder, letting sweet, hilarious relief cool his head. He wished he could have been there to see the look on the ghostly geezer’s face when Dandrane schooled him. He could practically hear the smirk in her voice as she told her little story, which made it all the more comical.

As he lay on her bed, still laughing to himself as the faint scents of soap and her musky floral perfume wafted into his nose, he couldn’t help but wonder what she had written down during the interview.

> “ _Well I’ve made up my mind about that guy – what a crazy sack of shit.”_

Peeves stared, grinning at the recorded voice emanating from the tape.

> _“Gods… Half of what he said pissed me off. Not integrating mythos into his class? Not changing any of his lectures for over a hundred years? I mean, **fucking hell** , why did they let this guy remain a teacher after he kicked the fucking bucket? He doesn’t even recognize anything remotely debatable in history, let alone his own **students**!_
> 
> _"Ugh, I’m just getting madder the more I talk about it… But I stand by this – he should not be a teacher. I finally understand why my younger students didn’t remember anything about the English Witch Trials other than what’s on the back of one of those fucking frog cards. It’s no wonder they didn’t know how many magic-users were actually killed during them, Binns could make anything sound dull and routine, and even if he **didn’t** have a voice that could put an insomniac to sleep I’d be doing anything **but** listen to him! And to think, I had to sit through all that just to learn how he died!”_

The machine gave a soft click and the tape stopped. Peeves felt incredibly giddy as he left Dandrane’s quarters with _Goon_ in hand, deliberately leaving the tape in the player so she knew what he’d been up to. Tape five lay forgotten in the trunk, and it wasn’t until Peeves passed another ghost in the hallway several hours later that he realized he’d have to find out what a ghost hunt was later, perhaps straight from Dandrane’s mouth.

*~*~*~*~*

Even though there was a mere eight days left until Halloween, Peeves was dreadfully bored. He was hoping for anybody, anybody _at all_ , to stumble into his path. He’d give anything for some excitement; just a few minutes would suffice, really…

The hallway was bereft of life this evening – even the prefects weren’t wandering the halls to keep an eye open for mischievous late-night wanderers. Of course, Peeves had no real idea what time it really was, as there were hardly any clocks around the castle, so for all he knew, it was four in the morning. Well, he knew it _wasn’t_ , as he could tell that just by looking out the window into the mass of complete darkness…

In fact, the whole place was darker than he was used to. He didn’t have too much trouble seeing, but it _was_ kind of a downer. It was too quiet for his tastes as well; there were only the sounds of crickets and the faint noise of humming to keep him company. No other ghost seemed to want to wander, either.

 _Wait, why DO I hear humming?_ He wanted to smack himself in the head the instant he finished his thought – it was _clearly_ a person humming. It didn’t matter if it was a ghost or a member of the living, it all meant alleviation from boredom!

Peeves slinked into the darkest corners of the ceiling as he bobbed down the hall, listening hard as the sound grew louder. The tune sounded familiar, like something he’d heard someone sing before; in fact, the humming voice _itself_ sounded familiar.

At last, a wand light appeared at the end of the hall, though it swayed so low to the ground that the carrier was still a mystery.

Or at least, they _would_ be if Peeves didn’t recognize the person’s purple-and-pink-striped manicure on their wand-hand. Of course, it _would_ have to be Miss Pink-Hair-and-Sunglasses, who _else_ would wander the halls at who-fucking-knows-what-time?

Mentally joking to himself aside, Peeves realized this was the first time he’d seen her mill about the castle so late. It was refreshing to see someone he actually _wanted_ to at whatever-hour-it-was.

Before the witch could see him, Peeves snuck up behind her and slapped his hands over her eyes, somewhat surprised she wasn’t wearing her little glasses. _I guess even she can’t wear them in total darkness, eh?_ “Guess who?” He cackled as the woman momentarily stiffened in surprise.

“Hmm, who could it be?” Dandrane remarked sarcastically. “Is it…Simon? Greg? Oh, wait, Malachi, right?”

“Very funny,” Peeves flicked her nose as he moved to hover in front of her upside-down. “What’s our _nosy_ vulture up to, wandering around so late?”

Dandrane held her wand up so they could see each other properly; he noticed she was still in her daytime clothes, a blood-orange muggle pantsuit this time. “Boredom, mostly. I decided to clear my head by partaking in your favorite nighttime activity, but I haven’t run into any students yet. Though I _did_ find this thing behind a statue of a boar.”

Peeves eyes lit up the moment the witch held up a fanged Frisbee. It was almost like she was holding up a lost holy relic – the lime-green paint seemed chipped and faded in places and three fangs were missing from the rim, but it still looked like a glorious little beacon of amusement.

“I know I’m _supposed_ to turn it in, but it seems like such a waste, you know? I haven’t gotten to play with one of these in years…” Dandrane trailed off with a playful smile, her eyes gleaming knowingly.

“Oh, _Phlegmy_ ,” the spirit leered, “You’re speaking my language! I know a good spot.”

“So I’m guessing this ‘good spot’ is one of your many favorite areas to haunt?” Dandrane asked as she followed him down the hall, eyeing him as he floated close by.

“Oh come on, Phlegmy, you act like I’m a normal ghost!” Peeves sneered at her. “I don’t _haunt_ any specific place. I just happen to like visiting some areas more than others.”

“It’s only a figure of speech, Peeves. But I’m curious as to why you like to visit wherever-we’re-going.”

The poltergeist narrowed his eyes as they turned a corner, passing several snoozing paintings. “Is this for more research, _professor_?”

“Nah, I just like knowing more about you,” she said with a mysterious smile. “Though that reminds me, do you want to do another formal interview with me soon?”

“Ooh, on one of your little tapes? Do you have a line of questions for me all ready?”

“Yes, actually. I have that nice theory of energy absorption laid out for you, as well as a few personal questions.”

“Why Phlegmy, I didn’t think you were interested in me like _that_ ,” Peeves gave a cocky grin as he pulled open a floor-length mirror on hinges to reveal a hidden staircase. He began to float backwards, facing her as she carefully descended the winding steps.

The witch peered at him with an odd sort of amused look on her face and then back down to the far-too-narrow stairs, and the spirit felt something within him shudder pleasantly. “I meant they’d be questions relating directly to you that you might not feel comfortable answering. Speaking of, where are we going, again?”

Peeves pretended to half-heartedly examine his nails as they continued down the long spiral staircase. “Didn’t I say? We’re going to the trophy room.”

The stairway door eventually ended up being a thin hole hidden behind a tapestry of a unicorn. The poltergeist got out with absolute ease, but Dandrane had to twist herself uncomfortably sideways to get through.

“Come on, Phlegmy, we haven’t got all night,” he teased, hovering by the wall-plaque reading ‘TROPHY ROOM – KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELVES’ as Dandrane pushed the hefty tapestry aside with one hand.

The spirit pushed the set of doors in a grand motion, for once being careful about the doors hitting the entrance’s walls, and used both arms to gesture to the entirety of the enormous room as he gave a “Voilà!” Plaques, medals and trophies of silver and gold in every size imaginable gleamed from every corner of the room, some of the oldest sitting in crystal display cases. Walls were decorated with woven banners, pictures, and various team awards, most of which were for Quidditch.

A mumbled incantation from Dandrane later, and the chandelier’s dim candles became fully lit, making everything in the room look ten times as bright and shiny. The witch placed her hand on the wall and muttered something incoherent to Peeves’ ears before she turned back to him; the poltergeist felt a shift in the atmosphere as her magic coated the walls.

“A silencing charm and an alerting charm; you can never be too careful,” the witch answered his unspoken question with sly grin. She flung the Frisbee at the wall, where the disk’s teeth bounced off the stone and soared through the air with a little growling noise, flying straight into a large Quidditch plaque. Peeves caught the toy with one hand as the award fell off the wall, where it hit several more trophies that had been stacked on a lower open shelf.

Dandrane let out a bark of laughter. “Oh man, now _that_ was a fumble! Did you see that? I hit, like, _six_ in one hit!”

With a sick grin, Peeves swung the Frisbee directly at a trophy case, where it rebounded and hit a pile of trophies and medals with an enormous _clang,_ all of the metal clinking together as they collapsed on the floor.

“Ha! Twelve in one shot, Phlegmy! Beat _that_!”

They were soon engulfed in wild cackling laughter and the sounds of clattering metal as they continued to play their fierce game of catch. It soon evolved to where the most points were given to how many surfaces you could make the Frisbee bounce off of and doubled by the amount of trophies you knocked over. Peeves found himself switching between watching the awards fall down and watching Dandrane throw the Frisbee, admiring the clingy areas of her suit and mirthful look on her face when she knocked down several trophies at once.

It seemed like barely any time had passed until the two were surrounded by piles of fallen awards and pictures, barely keeping up with how many points they had accumulated. Peeves’ last throw had caused a domino effect on a row of ‘special service’ awards, and almost caused the professor to fall into the pile, which just made them both laugh harder.

At least until a distorted wailing began to echo off the walls. Dandrane shot a look at the second set of doors, her face screwed up in alert concentration.

“Shit, someone’s coming. Peeves, do you know a secret way back to the second floor?”

“Shouldn’t you do something about the _wailing_?” He shouted with a wince, covering his ears to try and soften the howling noise that seemed to claw at his eardrums.

The pink-haired witch whispered a series of counter-spells as her wand touched the stone of the nearest wall, her hand hovering near the brass door handle. The wailing stopped mid-cry, and Peeves’ shoved his head through the door to see if anyone really was coming.

Down at the far end of the hall, Peeves could see a familiar dim lantern light swaying side to side.

The poltergeist pulled his head back in with glee as Dandrane was wiping off the Frisbee using her suit-jacket in the now dim candlelight. “It’s _Filch_ ,” he beamed, “I _hope_ he comes in, he’ll probably pop a vessel! _Ooh_ , or maybe he’ll get a _hernia_ this time!”

Dandrane shoved the Fanged Frisbee into the nearest pile of awards. The angle almost looked like it had crashed into the pile and gotten stuck. “Please tell me you know a way out where we don’t have to see him?”

“ _Sure_ I do, just follow me,” he said with a devilish grin, “and watch your step!”

The pair slinked out the door and down the hall as quickly and quietly possible, the faint sound of cat claws on stone echoing nearby as the light from Filch’s lantern got closer. Peeves gently pushed the witch through a nearby fake portrait as he tried hard not to snicker aloud at the thought of Filch’s over-the-top reaction to their chaos. Dandrane clutched the wall with one hand as she rushed down the little steps, keeping her head low to watch her feet, barely catching herself from falling over one of the more misshapen stones.

“Peeves, when did you last see Filch _before_ we ran into each other?”

The poltergeist raised a brow from behind her, seeing her little silver hoops sway in her ears as she hurried down the stairs, not bothering to turn around to face him. “I dunno, two hours ago?” _Would’ve been useful to know what time it was. Or what time it **is**._

“Ok,” Dandrane stopped at the final step, turning to look at him with a serious face. “Let’s get this straight – if anyone asks, you and I were together in my office for the past hour and forty-five minutes. You were playing coy about answering some of my ghost-related questions and horsing around with some of the instruments on the mantelpiece to annoy me, and I was studying you while you were doing that. We can’t deviate from this, okay?”

“Why are you going so _far_?” Peeves crossed his arms, regarding the beauty before him with suspicion as he barely registered the faint yell carried through the wall.

“Because I don’t want either of us to get into trouble,” Dandrane’s mouth quirked up a little at her co-conspirator. “I wiped off the fingerprints and no one should be able to detect my magical signature in there. As far as Filch is concerned, it was an unknown student up in the late-night hours horsing around.”

“You realize you could just blame the whole thing on _me_ , right?”

Maybe it was the lighting, but her eyes seemed to gleam mischievously as she stepped out of the stairway, looking at him from an angle with a mysterious little smile. “Babe, you telling me you _want_ to get punished for potentially destroying school property? You said the Trophy Room was one of your favorite spots in the castle - I wouldn’t want to see you get banned from _there_ , too.”

Peeves floated through the heavy suit of armor that guarded the secret passage, feeling a rush of affection for the pink-haired professor as he returned her grin. “That’s sickeningly sweet of you, Phlegmy. I didn’t think you cared.”

Dandrane just hummed she walked to her office door, the spirit floating next to her a little below eye-level as he wondered if she’d mind him sticking around for a little while longer. Her hand was just on the knob when another voice rang out nearby.

“Dandrane, is that you?” Professor Sinistra held up her newly-lit wand from half-way down the hall, dressed in a very ornamental bathrobe and pair of slippers. “I thought I heard something, is everything alright?”

“Just fine, Aurora,” Dandrane had slipped on a polite smile, now placing her hands in her blazer pockets to appear more casual. “I was just going to go down to the kitchens.”

“At this hour?”

“I’ve been observing Peeves for almost two hours; it takes a lot outta ya,” she pointed a thumb at the poltergeist, still hovering behind her.

Peeves blew a short raspberry in her direction, his casual-teasing voice slipping into place as he played along. “Of _course_ it’s exhausting, Phlegmy; you just keep fixing whatever I break! You’re a _spoilsport_ , you are!” With that, he flicked the biggest tip of her fauxhawk and cackled his way down the hall, waiting until he was around a corner before turning invisible and coming back around as fast as he could.

Dandrane gently prodded her hair tips as if she were afraid he had broken one. “It’s the first time I’ve been around a poltergeist, so I’ve taken to observing him when I can and writing it all down. We don’t know much about them, you know? I mean, it’s the perfect research opportunity.”

“I see,” The older witch gave a funny sort of half-nod that made her long dark hair fall over her shoulder, looking a little concerned. “You know, I think I’ll accompany you to the kitchens, I could do with some tea.”

The two witches strolled down the hallway and towards the grand staircase, making small-talk. Peeves lingered behind them, half-listening to Dandrane’s excuse about why she was still wearing her suit as he focused on just watching her. She always walked with such _confidence_ , and he didn’t know if it was because she was over six feet tall or if it was just her personality, but he rather admired it, as well as how quick she was to spin a lie.

_Really makes you wonder just how much she’s lied to **your** face, eh, Peevesy? _

The poltergeist wasn’t sure what to think about that prospect. What would she lie to him about that was worth noting, anyway? At the end of the day, she seemed to actually enjoy his company, and their fun in the trophy room was proof of that; there was no way a person could fake having fun for _that_ long, good liar or not.

His thoughts were interrupted when Filch emerged from the top of the third floor stairs above them.

“PEEVES! COME OUT HERE YOU RETCHED SON OF A-”

Sinistra was the first to shout up from her position on the first floor stairs. “ _Keep your voice down_!”

The janitor peered over the railing at her, the veins on his forehead pulsing. “You don’t understand, Professor Sinistra! I’ve got him this time, I _really_ have! YOU HEAR THAT, PEEVES?!”

“Mister _Filch_ , keep your voice _down_!” She said in a harsh half-whisper, marching back up the second-floor stairs. “What in all of _England_ is so bloody terrible that it regulates screaming in the halls at three in the morning?”

“But I have to find him! He’s in for it this time…”

Peeves bit his tongue to refrain from laughing as Dandrane took the opportunity to speak up, her blue eyes staring coolly at the squib as she made her way back up the moving stairs. “What exactly has Peeves has done?”

“It’s _disgraceful!_ ” he bellowed, spittle flying from his scrunched mouth. “Just look for yourselves!” He pointed down the hall and before either of them could react, Filch began to hobble down the third floor hallway, as if he were intent on showing them himself.

The witches trotted along after Filch as he stomped his way past tapestries and portraits, raving angrily under his breath as his scraggily cat patted alongside him. He shoved the double doors of the Trophy Room open with more force than necessary, walking in with his lantern held high to cast light upon the piles of awards that had fallen off the shelves and walls.

“LOOK AT THIS!” Filch cried, looking like he _was_ going to burst a vessel.

“I see,” Dandrane waved her hand to light the chandelier, looking around at the mess. Peeves, who could no longer stop shaking from silent laughter, propped an arm triumphantly on her shoulder, very quiet giggles escaping him as he leaned on her. The professor turned away from the others, pretending to look at the damage as she let a smile slip through her façade for a moment, which made the poltergeist find everything even _funnier_. “Who came by here last, Mr. Filch?”

The caretaker whirled towards her, his scraggily hair and threatening scowl making him look completely mental. “ _I_ did! Not an _hour_ ago!”

“Are you sure you didn’t see or hear anyone in or around the room at the time?” Dandrane regarded him with a somewhat thoughtful stare.

“ _NO!_ That’s why I KNOW it was Peeves!” Filch shouted as he looked towards the ceiling, as if expecting to see the poltergeist coming through any second. “GET OUT HERE, YOU LITTLE BASTARD! YOU’VE GONE TOO FAR THIS TIME!”

Dandrane held her hand up, as if it would make the caretaker pause by gesture alone. “Please, Mr. Filch, unless our poltergeist has the ability to clone himself, he couldn’t have done this. He’s been in my office for roughly the past two hours assisting me with my research; Aurora even saw him leaving just as I was heading out.”

“ _Your_ office?” Filch glared, looking disgusted. “Why would he be _there_?”

“I’m studying poltergeists. In exchange for his assistance, he breaks pretty much anything of mine he wants.”

“You’re _ENCOURAGING_ him?!” The caretaker looked almost as if he was going to foam at the mouth.

“Only with _my_ things, Mister Filch. I wouldn’t dare let him break anything else in front of me,” Dandrane said in a cool tone, as if she were insulted at Filch’s insinuation.

The disheveled man glared harshly at the professor before sweeping his gaze around the room, as if expecting to find someone hidden in the corner. Peeves shoved a knuckle between his teeth to help stop himself making any more noise, but he felt his shaking laughter threatening to burst out of his chest.

“Argus, look, there’s a Fanged Frisbee over here!” Professor Sinistra held up the brightly colored flying disk. “This must have been what knocked all the trophies down!”

“Let me take a look at that, Aurora,” the pink-haired witch strolled over to the pile near the door, looking serious as Sinistra handed over the toy, Filch eyeing the pair with a newfound twinge of hope. The younger professor held the Frisbee in her hand as if it were a delicate treasure, spinning it slowly in her grasp as she ran her eyes over it before turning it over to examine the back. “No fingerprints, but let’s see about a magic signature, shall we?”

Peeves was having quite a time, trying his best not to laugh or snort while Dandrane mumbled under her breath, running her wand over the edge of the plastic, looking so _serious_ about the whole thing. He couldn’t help but wonder in what context she had done this sort of thing before; she was too good for it to be her first time pulling off such an act.

“Anything?” Sinistra asked with a raised brow.

“No, no signature either. Footprints would be useless, since people go in and out of here every day… I suppose our culprit has gotten away with it this time,” Dandrane turned to the caretaker, who looked absolutely miserable. “I would suggest we close the room off until all this is put back.”

“But what about the _criminal?_ ” Filch cried, “They can’t just walk _free!_ ” Peeves shoved his tongue on the roof of his mouth to stop the laugh threatening to rupture his stomach.

“There’s nothing else we can do. We have no signature, no fingerprints, and no way to prove that anyone was ever _here_ , aside from the mess they made,” Dandrane said with an air of finality.

Professor Sinistra looked somewhat worriedly at the caretaker (who looked like he was going to cry from frustration) and began to magically sort out a few piles of fallen and dented awards.

“Do you want some help?” Dandrane turned to the other witch, looking somewhat sincere.

“No, no, don’t bother, Dandrane,” she gave a sympathetic little smile, “I’ve got it covered. You’ve had your hands full all night. I’ve at least had _some_ sleep.”

The pink-haired professor gave a somewhat-tired looking smile of gratitude, mumbled a polite and weary-sounding thanks, and left the room with Peeves floating just over her head.

They had gotten back to the staircase when Dandrane looked over her shoulder, finally breaking her serious look with a grin. “Peeves – you still there?” She asked in a low voice, her eyes sparkling with humor.

The poltergeist came into her view with a ‘pop’, snickering with his mouth clamped shut as the witch created a translucent pink barrier around them that blocked out the crackling sound of the stairway torches. As soon as the magic covered them, Peeves let out a very long, loud cackle, kicking his legs in the air and clutching his sides as she walked down the moving staircases, almost feeling like he could cry from how absolutely _hilarious_ it all was. “Did-did you see his _face_?” He asked her, his grin wide as her shoulders shook with laughter. “That was - was so fucking _funny,_ Phlegmy! I thought he might have a _stroke!_ ”

Dandrane was struggling not let out another laugh, the pink in her face clashing with her hair. “I know I shouldn’t laugh,” she managed to get out in-between giggles, “but you’re right, especially when I told him you were with _me_!”

“ _I know!_ ” Peeves squeaked out, “And then - when you were pretending to look for _clues_ ,” he snorted, “that was - that was _brilliant._ ” He dissolved into another fit of laughter, reimagining the crushed, fuming look on the caretaker’s face when he found there would be no one to punish.

“Why thank you,” Dandrane beamed proudly as they made their way slowly to the ground-floor staircase, “I think I deserve an Oscar for that performance; I don’t think I’ve had to act that much since my last witness interrogation! I guess my ‘serious business’ face,” she screwed up her face in a parody of seriousness momentarily, “still works after all!”

“ _Ooh_ , interrogation? Now _that’s_ something I’d like to hear more about,” Peeves smirked, teeming with interest as he continued to let out the occasional giggle.

“Well, it’s not _that_ exciting, but okay, if you want. I used to be in the American Ministry of Defense in the Magical Congress, right? Well, I only worked as an Auror for five years, and it turns out you have to work there for a shit-ton longer to get assigned to the more dangerous cases, so I worked on the more low-level stuff for a long time. It wasn’t too bad of a set-up, really, since the ‘dangerous cases’ usually included hunting down and confronting other magical people, and I wasn’t keen on dying in a duel any time soon, you know? The lower-level stuff dealt with magical objects and dealing with muggles, and my boss found I had a knack for talking with them – since, you know, half-muggle and all that jazz – so he kept assigning me to _those_ cases more than any other.

“So on my last case, I had to deal with this younger guy who had supposedly bought a cursed book. The report had listed stuff like ‘whispering voices’ and ‘strange sounds’ and ‘bizarre dreams’ as side-effects of the book, right? So, I’m talking to this guy, trying to get him to tell me exactly what was happening when he touched the book or opened it, and he’s just telling me what happens every night since he bought the thing: he’ll try to sleep and all he hears are these noises of people talking quietly in a different language, or soft weird music playing, and then when he does get to sleep he has these odd dreams, like he’s standing one minute and the next he’s an egg being broken into a frying pan or something. I can’t break face when I talk to people I’m trying to get information out of, right? And he’s there, telling me how he dreamt a party was happening in the street and how he became a streamer that floated down into the crowd, and I’m trying not to laugh at the mental image of the guy just going flat and whipping out the window. And then, just when he’s telling me he got the book at a muggle second-hand store and finally shows me the goddamn book, it fucking hits me that this guy is just hearing his neighbors’ radio through the wall every single night!” Dandrane laughed heartily as they opened the door to the Hufflepuff’s dungeons, Peeves hardly realizing they had gone so far already. “I had to keep a completely straight face while telling him that the book was fine and to invest in some damn earplugs! I was _this close_ to just slapping him with the book and tell him it was the only way to lift the curse!”

The pair dissolved back into laughter, actually stopping in the middle of the warm hallway to let it pass. Dandrane wiped at the corners of her eyes as she calmed down before noticing they had stopped in front of a large painting of a bowl of fruit. “Oh, we’re here already…”

“Doesn’t time pass faster when you’re have fun?” Peeves said teasingly.

“Yeah… I guess I’ll see you later?”

“I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t bother you every once in a while, Phlegmy - life here wouldn’t be as _fun_ without me!” The poltergeist smirked, knowing he wouldn’t dare keep away from the pretty witch for too long. He almost didn’t want to leave her, but she _was_ getting dark circles underneath her eyes, and he supposed she had to sleep _sometime_.

“It also wouldn’t be as thrilling,” she joked, her piercingly blue eyes brimming with fondness, “You know, even though we had a good chance of getting caught back there, I’d _totally_ do that with you again.”

Peeves felt his heart flutter in his ribs as he experienced a sensation similar to magic washing over him. _Phlegmy, you keep talking like that and you’re going to make me swoon._

“’Night, Peeves,” Dandrane said with a knowing grin as she popped the invisible silencing bubble that surrounded them with a poke from her wand. She slipped away into the kitchens, leaving Peeves to float dreamily away, not understanding what she looked smug for until he passed a mirror.

He watched in mild horror as his face turned a darker shade of purple, not knowing when he had actually started blushing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, I have been WAITING to show you guys this one! Every part of this was fun to write! I hope it was as good for you as it was for me. I'm sorry this is uploaded so late in the day, I had a few things to fix and notes to add. I hope the long length of this chapter makes up for it! I promise the next chapter will be uploaded midnight (EST) on 11/16, if not a little earlier!
> 
> I know some people really get off on guys getting jealous in fiction, but personally I think it’s not a great trait to have. A little jealousy is okay, but when someone’s jealous of their significant other just talking to another person of their preferred gender, that’s really not okay. I hope I got across the fact that Peeves only feels jealous here because he feels Binns isn’t as nearly as interesting as himself, so he doesn’t understand why Dandrane would talk Binns. (˵•́ ‸ •̀˵ ) 
> 
> I also hope I got Filch's character written okay - he is one stressed-out (and kind of rotten) caretaker. My favorite scene in the books with him is when he's ecstatic about finding Harry's golden egg on the stairs in GoF - he instantly thinks it's Peeves' doing and is so desperate to get Peeves out of the castle that he doesn't want to give the egg back to 'Moody'. Poor Peevesy, bouncing around the trophy room with no idea of the slander against his name! ꉂ (ᕑᗢूᓫ∗) I do wonder if Filch ever went to Dumbledore about it. Did Dumbledore just go 'nah', knowing about Potter's invisibility cloak and how the egg works, or did he actually ask Peeves if he had stolen it? I can see it now...  
> Dumbledore: Peeves did you steal the egg  
> Peeves: LOL no  
> Dumbledore: Okay Filch you heard him  
> Dumbledore: Peeves won't be kicked out today  
> Dumbledore: Or ever, actually  
> Filch: *continues to hate life*
> 
> Okay, enough silliness. I wanted to mention this last time, but my previous notes mentioned me talking about Peeves’ design instead, so I figured I’d save it ‘til now - what’s the deal with the Ghost Council in the books? Like, how many times do they meet a year? Do they have a set amount or do they do it only when needed? These are important questions, Rowling! I also always wondered if the Ghost Council included every castle ghost or just the house ghosts. I figured it would be all of them, since it’d be unfair to leave the rest out when they live at the castle, too. I also guessed at the number of ghostly residents of Hogwarts. I know some people have head-canons that there are ghosts of students who died after the Battle of Hogwarts, but I never liked the idea, myself. Sir Nicholas straight up told Harry in OotP that very few magical people choose to become ghosts. You become a ghost if a) you are afraid to die or b) you have unfinished business in the living world. Even if there are canon Battle!ghosts of students, I didn’t want to include any that still remained at Hogwarts – if I were a ghost, I’d travel or hang around my family home, not linger around my old school. I could only see doing that if someone had a younger sibling to look after, but even then in this story’s timeline most of those siblings would’ve grown up by now. 
> 
> I should mention that “repellere” isn’t a canon spell, but it is Latin for “to repel”; the Repelling Charm had no incantation listed, so I made one! Feel free to use it! 
> 
> See you all next week! Please leave kudos and/or comments! I want to hear your thoughts! Stay fabulous, darlings! ( •́ ⌄ - ) ─☆


	6. The Long Halloween

Halloween had been a very busy day for Professor Flemming.

Peeves had shaken her awake before dawn to ask if he could borrow ‘a few things’ from her, and then once she gave her half-mumbled reply he had slipped away without another word. It wasn’t until she had actually woken up several hours later that she discovered he had gone through both one of her trunks and her desk while she slept, leaving drawers open and stuff shuffled around without a care. She wasn’t too aggravated by that, since it wasn’t too different from how it normally looked, but she did have to spend more time searching for her outfit, since half her stuff was mixed up.

Despite the rush to get ready that morning, Dandrane was rather pleased with the general reaction to her costume as she headed to the decked-out Great Hall that morning. Long sessions of transfiguration and color-swaps during her breaks between classes the week before had resulted in a very elaborate version of the Headless Horseman, complete with realistic light-weight armor, flowing cape and a pair of boots to be proud of. She had completely spooked one younger Hufflepuff when he realized that his teacher and not an enchanted suit of armor had greeted him in the hallway. The invisibility spell on her head had drawn several curious looks, particularly from purebloods who had little concept of the muggle tradition of dressing up for the holiday.

Her classes had been the most fun so far. Of course, she was biased – she had taken the time in her third class to tell the story of the headless horseman (which no one had heard of) and even regaled them and her fifth years with a brief history of Samhain. Dandrane wasn’t as nearly as surprised this time to learn that her students knew very little of the old celebrations around Halloween, considering she had come to learn what a completely daft and poor excuse for a teacher Binns really was, but she still gave a dramatic sigh of ‘how can you not know this, it’s basic history here, it’s on your _O.W.L.s_ ’.

After she enjoyed tormenting her seventh years with the gruesome truths behind Inferi (and getting them to discuss the difference between them and zombies and how to destroy them all), the professor taught her third years about combating boggarts (promising a practical lesson on them soon) and her fifth years _Melofors,_ delighting in discussing the benefits of turning your opponents heads into pumpkins. All the kids had been rather upbeat and enthusiastic about her class, and everything had gone so smoothly that the day almost felt perfect.

The only thing that was really missing was Peeves.

As she marched alone down the grand staircase, heading towards the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast with the remnants of a song in her head, she felt hope and disappointment churn in her stomach. She had been eager to see the poltergeist tearing through the castle and pranking all who got in his way; after all, Halloween was surely the biggest holiday for spirits, and since the more modern traditions dictated scaring the daylights out of strangers for fun, she figured Peeves would be out having a ball.

Yet it had been quiet all _day_. Dandrane actually felt a little annoyed that he hadn’t told her what he was planning earlier that morning – he had just zipped away without another word, not allowing her any time to process that he was really there. She had gone along to Hogsmeade the day after their fun in the trophy room, intent on just enjoying looking at all the special Halloween decorations they had put up, and ended up buying him a gift on a sort of impulse. And now here she was, walking around the castle with it like she had been all day, hoping to run into him as if she were a schoolgirl with a valentine.

_I suppose I shouldn’t be too upset over it. He’s the sort who comes and goes, anyway… I guess I could just give it to him when he comes by my rooms again, he’s bound to do that soon. But **still** …_

Dandrane was at the top of the ground-level staircase, just about to step onto the polished marble when she felt someone pull her back by her shoulder.

“You should watch your step, teach’,” came a familiar high-pitched voice in her ear. “Don’t want you to lose your _head_.”

The witch jerked her invisible head towards Peeves, who was grinning fiendishly over her shoulder.

“Nice costume, Phlegmy,” he purred, “Has Nicky seen you yet? I’ll bet he would just _love_ _it_.”

Dandrane pulled her wand from her sleeve and put it to her head, letting the cooling sensation of the counter-spell wash over her as she grinned at him. “How’d you know it was me?”

The poltergeist shrugged nonchalantly, still beaming at her as his black eyes glittered. “I heard people talking; figured only our foreign punk would do something so un-wizardy as dress up.”

Dandrane shamelessly ran her eyes over him as he talked, taking in his change of appearance. He swapped out his red-and-yellow suit for a loud orange and green striped tailcoat and black pants, complete with his unusual belled hat and a familiar purple tie. “Is that _my_ tie?”

“You _said_ I could borrow it,” he crossed his arms, looking away with a tint of color in his cheeks, the angle showing off the profile of his pointed nose. “I couldn’t find my purple bow-tie earlier. Don’t know _where_ it went.”

“Uh- _huh_ ,” the witch smirked as she leaned against the bannister. “What _else_ did you borrow this morning?”

“Nothing _important_ ,” he peered at her through his short dark lashes before directing his gaze to the stairs, “but you _were_ going to trip over some of it.”

The pink-haired professor looked down at the top step, where a long strand of clear wire could be seen stretching across the stairs at ankle-height. Judging by the number of students that had to go up the stairs to get to their houses, there was going to be a massive pile-up later on. “When did you put this up?”

“Couple of minutes ago,” Peeves said as he turned himself upside down in the air, looking a little relieved at the turn of conversation. “I’ve had quite a successful day, this is my last trick!”

“Really? What else did you do?”

“Oh, you’ll get an idea of it when you go into the feast,” he snickered, “ _trust_ me.”

 _The feast, shit._ Dandrane pulled back her sleeve to check her watch – she had ten minutes, more than enough time. “Speaking of food,” the witch pulled out a black cardboard box in the shape of a coffin from her hidden pocket and handed it to him, taking care to not crush the bright orange bow tied on it. “Here, this is for you.”

The poltergeist arched a brow as he took her gift somewhat hesitantly; he turned it over in his hands, as if he were making sure it was real, and then flicked his gaze back to her, looking a little star-struck. “People don’t give gifts on Samhain.”

“Well, if you’ve been tricking all day, it’s about time you got a treat, too,” Dandrane said with a smile as she leaned towards him. “By the way, there’s going to be a surprise show during the feast,” she whispered mischievously, “I know you aren’t _really_ allowed to go into the Hall, but if you want to have a peek you could slip through the teacher’s entrance in about an hour.”

“What _kind_ of a show?” Peeves practically purred at the prospect, his eyes gleaming with interest as a fresh grin spread on his pale-blue face, flipping himself into a leisurely sideways lean in the air.

“Well, let’s just say that I got my hands on some Chinese sky candy and I’ve placed it strategically around the hall. I should probably be heading down there, actually,” the witch straightened herself and carefully stepped over the wire as he unwrapped his gift. “Happy Halloween, Peeves!” She threw him a playful wink and made her way down the stairs, turning her head invisible again as she heard Peeves give an enthusiastic ‘ _oooh_ ’ at the contents of the coffin-box.

The professor glanced up at him as she walked towards the Great Hall – he was watching her as he chewed one of the Habanero Pepper Imps. Dandrane grinned as he blew out a stream of bright orange flames, noting that he _did_ look rather dashing in her tie.

*~*~*~*~*

_Every time the clock struck eleven, the house got dark for five minutes, no matter if it were a beautiful sunny morning or a night where every light source had been turned on. I dreaded every minute leading up to the hour, as I knew just how vulnerable I would be sitting in the shadows. Vulnerable to what exactly, I was not sure, but I knew that if I were to sleep during that time that I would surely not wake up again…_

_Geez man, we get it, you’re house is haunted. You established that twenty pages ago when you said you heard voices coming from the graveyard behind the house! No need to hit us over the head with it!_ Dandrane rolled her eyes as she turned the page, hoping that the dime-store novel she purchased on an impulse picked up speed sooner rather than later. _I wish I wasn’t such a sucker for ghost stories. I mean, what moron sees a house he hears funny voices around and doesn’t expect shit to go down when he moves in?_

The professor looked warily at her bookshelf, where it was filled with all sorts of ghost novella and real-life encounter stories. She had so many books on ghosts and psychic powers that she had to stack some on top of the rows so they wouldn’t just sit on the floor. _I probably should’ve chosen something else to read. But I can’t resist funny pen names – I mean, this guy’s name is Ackerley Oaks! ‘Oak Meadow Oaks’, I mean, how I could I_ not _laugh at that?_

Dandrane turned her attention back to the book as the wood in the fireplace crackled and popped in the midnight hour. _I began to worry as I found myself slipping out of the house for the five minutes of darkness each time it neared, making the excuse that I just had to go do a particular task right at that moment. I was afraid of bringing friends over, worried that they would get swallowed up by whatever it was that was waiting in the dark. So I reached out to the only people left, the Paranormal Research Lab at the - okay, what university has a real working paranormal research lab with people who jump onto cases with loads of equipment? What universe is this set in? I guess sugar plum fairies in footie pajamas blow kisses to the stars in this fantasy world, too?!_

The witch wasn’t quite sure whether it was the subtle change in the amount of light over her book or if she had heard some sort of indication that another person was there, but she guessed that if she tilted her head upward, she would see Peeves’ grinning pale face staring down at her.

“Evening, Phlegmy,” he greeted from behind her in an unusually sultry tone. “Busy, are we?”

“Not particularly,” the witch pretended to still read as she waited for him to pop in front of her, not able to stop herself from smiling. “How about you?”

“Well,” he drew out, sliding into view from her left as he floated on his side with his head in one hand, “I was thinking that now would be the _perfect_ opportunity for that little interview you mentioned a while ago.”

Dandrane snapped her book shut with one hand and shoved it in-between the cushion and the arm of her chair. “Oh? Perfect in what way?”

“It’s in the middle of Halloween night, _you_ look bored, _I’m_ bored, and I figured it’d be a nice way to thank you for your little offering earlier,” he grinned, looking particularly gleeful.

“Hmm… Alright, but I’ll need my tape recorder,” Dandrane rose from her seat, feeling the cape of her costume cling to the chair momentarily and feeling the weight of her armored chest piece push down on her shoulders. Peeves followed her into her bedroom, humming some unknown tune while she sorted through her night-stand. As the witch rustled through her drawer to find a fresh tape she knew she had stuck there, she passed over the ‘Int. w/ Binns’ tape that she had found stuck in her player days ago. “By the way, did you listen to one of my tapes?”

Peeves picked at the sleeve of his orange-and-green jacket, still grinning. “What of it?”

“I don’t care if you listen to them, but at least take them out of the recorder when you’re done. I almost recorded over that one,” she said with a chuckle, shaking the tape recorder for emphasis. “What did you listen to the ‘Binns’ one for, anyway?”

The poltergeist all but stuck his nose in the air. “I only wanted to know why you bothered interviewing the bastard.”

“Same reason I wanted to interview you,” Dandrane said as she pushed a fresh tape into the recorder. “For research, curiosity, and a general interest. The difference between you and him, though, is that I find you _infinitely_ more interesting.”

Peeves looked even more proud, his grin completely unrestrained as he blushed slightly. “I know, Phlegmy – I figured that out ages ago.”

The witch passed him with a smile. “So have you tormented the old coot about my deep-seated dislike for him yet?”

“Ehh, he’s no _fun_ \- a lot of things I try to say go right over his shriveled head,” he rolled his eyes as Dandrane took her seat back in the armchair, waving her wand at her desk; a bright green quill now stood poised over a legal pad next to a fresh pot of ink. “Did you _want_ me to?”

“Well I wouldn’t say _no_. I’m sure it’d make for an interesting story, at least.”

“What, you’d write that down?”

“Nah, I’d just like to hear it, it sounds like it’d be good for a laugh,” she said before gesturing to the second chair by the fireplace with her hand. “Take a seat.”

Peeves ignored the chair completely, plopping himself down in her lap at an angle so his legs stuck over the front of the chair but he still remained on the side. He seemed to be the temperature of the surrounding air – he wasn’t the standard ninety-eight degrees, but the fireplace was seeming to warm him up gradually. It was certainly an _interesting_ sensation. “You’ll get better sound like this, right?” He asked with a smarmy grin.

“That’s the second reason I’m not complaining.”

“ _Oh?_ ” The poltergeist raised a brow, “What’s the _first_?”

Short memories of sitting on previous boyfriends’ laps popped in her head like snapshots as the familiar sensation of comfort and security bloomed in her chest. “That it’s nice being on the reverse side of this.”

Before he could give a response, Dandrane clicked the tape recorder on, setting on the little table near them. “This is Dandrane Flemming, interviewing Peeves the Poltergeist – November 1st, 12:44 A.M.,” her professional voice oozed before switching to a more enthused tone. “Well Peeves, since you decided to grace me with your presence for another exclusive interview, let me start by complementing my excellent tie. It really does look good with that outfit – I might let you borrow it for a while just to see it on you more.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere, Phlegmy,” he chastised, though the look in his eyes told her the exact opposite, “but I’ll take it anyway. If you want to lay on _more_ , you could tell me what an excellent prank I pulled earlier this evening.”

“You mean regarding the horrible permanent dye jobs half the student body got, or how a surprising amount of kids actually tripped up the grand staircase?”

The spirit snickered to himself. “Both! That dye job wasn’t easy to pull off you know; turns out if the person doesn’t wash their hair more often the dye doesn’t _stick_. At least you know which of your students’ needs to bathe more.”

“I didn’t need dye to tell me that, I can smell _those_ kids from across the room,” Dandrane laughed. “But you’re right, they were both great pranks. I was wondering what you’d been doing all day.”

“Phlegmy, that’s only _half_ of it! I also dumped a whole container of frog spawn all over Filch’s desk this morning _and_ managed to release some of the live bats into the library.”

“And here I thought you were slacking off on Halloween! I should have known better.”

“Pfft, you _should’ve_. _No one_ escapes me on days like today!” the poltergeist grinned, his eyes alight with pride. “So what other sorts of things is our Defense-professie going to flatter me with today?”

“Well, I thought I’d ask you some things about the last Tri-Wizard Tournament.”

Peeves actually looked surprised. “The _tournament_? What do you want to know about _that_ for? It’s not like I had a part in it.”

“I meant to ask weeks ago, but I only found my note about it the other day. Since I know that you aren’t allowed to enter the feasts – or the Great Hall in general – I wanted to know why you were so desperate to go to the Welcoming Feast during the last Tri-Wizard Tournament.”

Peeves blinked, looking slightly sullen. “And here I thought you _knew_ me. Way to get a guy’s hopes up, Phlegmy.”

“If it makes you feel any better, my first guess was that you wanted to knock over the Goblet of Fire.”

“That’s… _better_ ,” he stretched the word out, eyeing her. “I guess you’re not _too_ far off, I _have_ always wanted to do that. But you’re still off the mark, Phlegmy. You know what the tournament is all about, _right_?”

“Yeah, three school champions pitted against each other for ‘friendly’ competition at the risk of death."

“That’s right,” Peeves gave an eerie grin. “ _Death_. Happens every tournament. It’s a rule that they have to tell the wee student beasties about the risks involved. Just once, I wanted to be able to taunt them first-hand about how much they were going to _suffer_ if they entered, maybe recount some of the more gruesome demises… But, like _every_ bloody year,” Peeves scowled, “the damn council ruled against me. They wouldn’t let me see the Tri-Wizard guests at the Halloween Feast, either. I only wanted to remind them of their imminent demise and how they were going to _lose_.”

“Knowing you, that makes sense... Though I heard you wanted to come to this year’s Welcoming Feast, too?”

“Oh, I wanted to see _you_ ,” he looked pointedly at her, his black eyes reflecting the firelight.

It was Dandrane’s turn to be surprised. He had visited her the night before the feast, hadn’t he? “ _Just_ to see me. No other reason.”

“Well, and I always want to torment the new kiddies, but _mostly_ to see you,” he cocked a lopsided grin. “I wanted to know how you cleaned up. Would’ve been a kick to see the looks on the kid’s faces when they saw a punk at the head table.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I slicked my hair back and wore a suit. Aurora _did_ make me wear a robe over it, though,” the pink-haired witch pulled a disgusted face at the thought. “I hate those things, they’re so _formal_.”

“Ooh, don’t you just _hate_ formality?”

“And _rules_ ,” she rolled her eyes, making finger-quotes in the air.

Peeves stuck his nose in the air, waving his hand in a garish fashion as he changed his voice to one not unlike Nearly-Headless Nick. “And being _proper_?”

Dandrane gave a small snort before descending into giggles, not helped by Peeves’ own snickers; they had only to glance at one another before they dissolved into a round of full-blown laughter.

“Okay, _okay_ ,” Dandrane inhaled, waving her hand as if to dismiss the laughs in the air, “back to questioning. I know you can get through wards, but how do you manage to move through solid objects when you have a physical body? Is it a similar process?”

“ _Yes_ and _no_ ,” he teased, sinking a little further into her lap with a coy grin. Dandrane, usually not an oblivious person, realized at that moment just how incredibly warm her lap had become. His thighs were placed at an odd angle, and the witch figured that if he turned just a bit more he could curl his legs over hers in the armchair. What was weird was that despite him being in her lap before, she felt a spark of arousal in-between her thighs this time, and she wasn’t sure quite what part of the entire situation brought it on. She had the reckless desire to reach out and pull him closer, but she shooed the very idea of it away; there was no way she would sabotage their current relationship by being too bold.

“So…do you still use your accumulated magic to do it?” she managed to get out without any awkwardness, “How is it different?”

“I use my magic to phase through, simple as that.”

“So you don’t have to, er, _tune_ your magic to the object? You just, what, think about it?”

“Mm-hmm,” Peeves crossed his legs and began to bounce one against the other. “Doesn’t take a lot of _effort_ , phasing. I just don’t like to do it all the time.”

“Why not? Isn’t going through walls to surprise people fun?”

“ _Phlegmy_ ,” he inclined his head towards her, “it’s _way_ more fun to make people jump out of their skin. Nothing’s better than to throw open a door when a beastie is on the other side trying to escape from the law! The looks on their faces…” Peeves grinned fondly, a wicked gleam lighting the black depths of his eyes as he leaned against the armrest to prop his head in his hand. “I’d love to see you with that look, you know.”

“What, panicked? Surprised? Horrified?” Dandrane listed off with a laugh, trying not to let herself get drawn in by the almost sensual tone in his voice.

“ _Horrified_ ,” the poltergeist emphasized, his features looking darker than normal. “I really want to know what makes _you_ wake up in a cold sweat.”

Dandrane, from both her years absorbing any mystery story she could get her hands on and her years working for the government, knew the golden rule of interacting with other people: _never_ let them know your weakness. As much as she liked Peeves, and no matter what she was feeling right now, she knew he was one of those people that would take a weakness - _any_ weakness - and exploit it until it had no further purpose. In his case, he would exploit it until it was no longer _fun_ , and even though her experience with men led her to know he liked her more than he normally let on, she highly doubted the poltergeist would go easy on her.

So like hell she was going to give him a _real_ answer.

“Hmm… Probably not finishing my book, to be honest. I’ve researched so much of this stuff for so long that if I were to die tomorrow, I’d come back as a ghost just to be able to publish it. It’s my only legacy at this point, losing it now would be horrible...” the pink-haired woman trailed off with a wince; it wasn’t quite a fear, but not finishing her book at all _was_ something she dreaded.

Peeves looked up at her with disbelieving narrowed eyes. “You could do better than _that_.”

“Hey, _you_ wanted to know. Isn’t there anything _you’re_ afraid of?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s not like I can _die_ ,” he said with an eyeroll. “You don’t fear spiders or banshees or anything _normal?_ ”

“Nope. You don’t really get scared of that stuff once you’ve been an Auror. Everything has a weakness, you know. Spiders can be squished, banshees can be muted and destroyed, and the list just goes on.”

Peeves huffed, but looked a little more convinced. “I _guess_. I thought you were a _low-level_ one though.”

“Yeah, but I spent my last year in the government as a tier- _two,_ until I quit. I’ve been up against banshees, dementors, curses, an acromantula that one time we were raiding that crazy lady’s house… I’ve seen a lot.”

“Really?” The poltergeist was looking at her with a fresh spark of curiosity in his gaze. “What about _people_?”

“Well…let’s just say you don’t get to become a tier-two during Voldemort’s reign of Britain by being soft on potentially dangerous magic-users. I’d rather not talk about _those_ instances.”

“Not _one_ little story?” Peeves beamed, holding up his fingers together in a ‘squish’ motion. “Just a _little?_ ”

“No,” she said firmly, much to his disappointment. “I don’t think I could talk about that today, anyway. But if you want a story, you can read this horrible book I was going through earlier,” Dandrane fished the cheap paperback out from the chair cushion, trying her best to avoid brushing against him. “It’s good for a laugh, anyway.”

The poltergeist raised a brow, settling against the armrest with crossed arms. “Go on.”

“It’s about some guy complaining about his house being crazy haunted. I’m not sure if it’s all ghosts in this story or if it’s going to throw demons in, too, but I’m thirty pages in and the prose is ridiculous – it’s like it’s trying to force the haunting down your throat. Oh, like this part in the beginning -” Dandrane flipped through the pages, holding the book in one hand as she read. “ _The house’s back porch had a clear view of the cemetery across the way, and though there was a good acre of space between the house and the iron fence that shielded the gravestones from unwanted travelers, I could swear I heard a voice from afar. But there was no one in the house but me and Michelle, and the neighboring houses, though a little far, I doubted left their windows open during this time of year. The voice that whispered my name sounded so light and airy, completely unlike any I had heard before. Was I simply imagining things?_

“ _Aside from the decrepit attic that still held the remnants of the previous tenants, the rest of the house was perfectly normal. I put the whispers down to my over-active imagination – the consequence of being a writer, no doubt – and agreed to meet Michelle back at her office for the paperwork. All that was left to do was to tell Nora and the kids._ I mean, this house has ‘I’m haunted’ written in bold capital letters and he STILL buys it! _”_ Dandrane added with a chuckle.

Peeves looked as if it were a brilliant joke he was thinking of stealing. “ _What?_ Are _all_ muggle ghost stories like that?”he snickered, pulling the book closer to him by the bottom, right where her hand was.

The witch watched as Peeves quickly moved his hand away from hers, almost missing the flustered look he got in the second he unintentionally held her hand. He seemed to save face quickly, probably due to having something else to focus on rather than just her, but a trace of color was left on his cheeks, even as she let go of the book altogether.

The spirit giggled as he read for a few pages, before turning back to her. “Phlegmy, can I borrow this?”

“Yeah, if you want. But you know, I get to sleep in today, since it’s Saturday and all, and since I’ve only read _some_ of it… You want to read it together for a while?”

“What, you want to stay with me all night?” he teased. “I’m flattered, Phlegmy.”

Dandrane, unable to stop herself from taking the opportunity to tease him, gave him a devilish grin. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first guy I stayed up all night with, but I think you’d be the most _fun_. How about it?”

Peeves flushed at the implication, but eventually returned her grin all the same. “You’re on.”

They stayed up for several hours reading the trashy novel by the fire together, pointing out and joking about the main character’s utter cluelessness of everything from ghosts and demons to his wife’s obvious infidelity, and dissolving into laughter when the ghosts made their completely cheesy physical appearance. At nearly five-thirty in the morning, long after the forgotten interview tape had run out, Dandrane finally insisted on bidding Peeves goodnight, after which the poltergeist mentioned casually that he’d be back to do that again sometime.

 _You shouldn’t feel so damn excited about it_ , a nagging voice in her head reproached as she made her way to the bedroom, her thighs feeling cold now that they was exposed to the night air _. It’s not a **date**. _

**_None_ ** _of this is. You wouldn’t be so excited if you weren’t such a fucking **pervert**. _

She knew that. She knew she shouldn’t have started flirting with him in the first place, but she couldn’t help it if she found him a cute little bastard, even if he wasn’t a human being… Peeves was a source of aggravation to many, but his sense of humor and personality made him incredibly fun to hang around, and it was so refreshing to have someone actually help her with her research rather than just have a vague interest in it.

_You know you’ll just end up hurting yourself._

She knew that, too. _Taboo relationships never end well_ , she reminded herself as she flopped onto her mattress, more tired and cold than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha ha… Ha ha ha ha ha! Oh Danny, you silly thing, why do you fight your feelings? Who cares if you dig a poltergeist? You had so much fun that you forgot you were recording an interview! And look, you were even writing it down with a Quick Quotes Quill and you still got lost in the moment! ౧(*മ് ധമ്)੭ु⁾⁾ 
> 
> Writing the fake ghost novel bits were fun, and pretty spur of the moment! Honestly, I didn’t try to make them sound terrible in terms of prose – I figured that since Dandrane has a whole miniature library of the things that she’d be focusing more on the story’s structure being terrible rather than the writing. How did the prose of those bits sound to you guys? 
> 
> Oh, in case you were wondering, I’m having Dandrane use Fahrenheit. She had her magical education in Canada, but she was born and raised in America and worked in the states for at least 10 years, so she’s used to the American measurements. No doubt she had to make conversions for Celcius/the metric system as a kid at Bayard’s School of Magic, but her default measurement method is always going to be Fahrenheit/US customary units. (Just FYI: 98°F = 36°C.) 
> 
> By the way… I recently noticed that I seem to have 3 regular readers! I’m glad you guys stuck with me so far! I hope you’re having fun! And hello to my newest reader, who read all five chapters in one day! I’m glad I got you interested enough to read it all in one go! And hello to any new readers who just got here! I appreciate and love all of you! *Mwah!* (๑ơ ₃ ơ)♥ 
> 
> As mentioned in my notes in Chapter 4, there will be no update next week, as I am celebrating Thanksgiving with my extended family – and I also got a job! They will both keep me busy for the next couple of weeks, and I still have plenty to write, so if there is no update on the 30th, then please assume that I will update on December 7th or 8th! Happy Thanksgiving, readers! Let’s all give it our best! ( •̀ᄇ• ́)ﻭ✧


	7. Message For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I broke my resolution to get these chapters out on time for you, my mysteriously anonymous readers. I’m sorry for keeping you waiting!

It wasn’t unusual to see people getting mail delivered throughout the school day. Occasionally there would some slower owls that dropped off student’s letters and care packages in the middle of a class, but more often than not the rare late deliveries were usually something of an official nature that was delivered to a Hogwarts staff member. And on a day that students would have to wander by the staff room, they would see a small kite or a bird made of parchment soaring through the air to travel between the staff room and a professor’s office.

However, it was highly unusual to see a blue paper airplane soar through the castle so close to the ceiling that it had to weave in and out of chandeliers. A couple of the more trouble-making students had tried to catch it, but whatever charm it had on it not only repelled summons and caused it to navigate around gusts of wind, but burned the fingers of whoever tried to grab it.

Despite having seen this magic before, the ghostly Friar Glaedwine of Hufflepuff was rather curious about it himself. Of course, it was really more of a matter of who it was _going_ to, rather than what was inside it. He knew it wasn’t truly any of his business, but considering it lightly singed the hands of one of his own house, he felt it in his best interests. He followed the paper airplane through two floors so far; the memo had stopped twice already to orientate itself, as if it were trying to gauge the position of its recipient. It had stopped in front of a door and a wall, pointing its nose at it as if trying to see through a window, and whizzed by a moment later, like it knew there was no one inside. The Friar watched it swerve towards the end of a corridor sporting a large painting of a trio of witches, and just as he began to wonder if the note actually knew where it was going or not, he heard a familiar voice call out from around the corner.

“Ouch! What’s the big -?!”

Sure enough, when Friar Glaedwine eventually poked his head through the cornerstone, he saw Peeves the Poltergeist holding the unfolded airplane in one hand as he gently rubbed at his temple with the other.

Now Glaedwine was even _more_ curious. Who in the world would be writing to Peeves? He knew it wasn’t his business, he knew he had only wondered who the letter _went_ to, and he was fairly sure he knew the answer already… But knowing that the council had decided to make a _completely unnecessary_ rule about watching over the poltergeist and that the Friar was the only ghost around, he figured it was his regretful duty to interfere. The Friar was not the type of ghost to pry into to private affairs, so he knew he couldn’t just ask _directly_ , either, as Peeves would sooner bow to a teacher than go for that…

“Peeves?” The Fat Friar did his best to sound surprised, but he was sure it came out phony. It was times like this Friar Glaedwine wished he was more of a Slytherin. He may have had hundreds of years being around the Bloody Baron, but it didn’t really change the fact that Glaedwine was an honest man at heart.

The poltergeist shot his gaze towards the spirit, but didn’t say anything.

“It’s rare to see you here at this time of day!” The ghost commented politely.

Peeves gave a small grin. “I’m not stuck in a rut like you lot, you know.”

“Of course you’re not,” Glaedwine smiled, almost wincing as his voice came out a little too cheery. “God knows you have a lot more freedom than us ghosts do, sometimes!”

The shorter man’s too-black eyes pierced him like needles. “I know what you’re doing,” he said with a slimy tone, “and unfortunately for you, I’m not feeling very generous.”

“Er, well...” The spirit should’ve guessed that this would happen. He was told on repeat occasions that he was too trusting and open to be _manipulative,_ and Peeves was one of the more difficult people to trick in the first place.

“It’s _obvious_ , Glaed. You’re an open book. I’m surprised that archbishop didn’t catch onto you _sooner_.”

“True,” the friar sighed, “but it doesn’t change the fact that I need to know who wrote to you.”

“‘s not your business, is it?” Peeves defiantly folded his arms across his chest as he hovered two feet off the ground, clutching the note firmly in his hand.

“Peeves,” Friar Glaedwine pleaded, “ _please_. You know I have to check up on you occasionally for of the council, and you should know I don’t _want_ to. And I _certainly_ don’t want to have to fetch the Baron just to know who’s writing to you.”

The poltergeist’s expression fell, but his nostrils flared as his tone became more akin to a rebellious know-it-all. “How do you know it’s _mine_?”

“I started following it after it burnt the hand of a student in my house. Your hands are fine,” the friar gestured to the spirit’s blue fingers.

“Really?” Peeves eyes lit up like fairy lights. “It actually _burnt_ someone?” He turned his attention back to the note as if he were seeing it in a new light. “Interesting…”

“Um...yes. That’s aside the point, though, Peeves.”

“Lady Ravenclaw’s been rubbing off on you a little, Glaed,” Peeves commented, carefully smoothing out the blue paper before holding it outstretched. “Go ahead. But only read with your _eyes_.”

> Peeves:
> 
> Come by my office around 11 AM. I’d like to try and get some biological samples from you, as long as you’d be okay with it. (I want to see if you emit what we call “ectoplasm”; it’s very difficult to get from muggle ghosts and I don’t know if I can get any from wizard ghosts yet. You’re my best shot!)
> 
> -Dandrane
> 
> P.S. If you still have my copy of _Goon_ , bring it back with you!

“So you and Miss Flemming _are_ friends,” Glaedwine said with an air of polite surprise. “This _proves_ it.”

Peeves blinked, looking at him weirdly as he neatly folded the note into a flattened airplane. “Say what?”

“I’ve been telling the council for _years_ that they should give you another chance to be in polite company! But they’re _convinced_ that you haven’t changed a bit over the years,” the Friar said with a smile, feeling hope swell in his breast. “If they see this, perhaps they’ll see things differently!”

Peeves’ eyebrows were as close to his widow’s peak as they could possibly be. “You know, Glaed, I take it back. Ol’ Salazar should’ve taken you in...”

“You’re just saying that,” the friar waved off what he assumed was meant to be a compliment. “I was practically born to be where I am now.”

“Well, yeah, I _was_ just saying that,” Peeves grinned to himself, turning the airplane delicately over in his fingers. “Though a good idea’s a good idea, Glaed. Later!” The short spirit turned to leave; the Friar knew he was going to zoom off in his typical haphazard fashion.

“Wait, Peeves!” Friar Glaedwine managed to put a hand on the poltergeist’s shoulder. “If you don’t mind… Could I accompany you? I’m curious as to how Miss Flemming conducts her experiments.”

Peeves’ smile faded. “Ghosts can’t go _in_ there.”

“It’ll be alright,” the Friar beamed reassuringly, “I’ve been in to see her there before, she lets the wards down for me.”

“She won’t know you’re coming.”

“The Chinese dog in front of her room acts like a gargoyle, she’ll know who shows up.”

Peeves grumbled something incoherent to himself before he gave a disgruntled _‘fine’_. Glaedwine wasn’t quite sure why Peeves looked so annoyed, but decided that was a question best kept quiet.

*~*~*~*~*

Despite his effort to dissuade the Fat Friar, Peeves found himself floating in front of the ghost as they slowly made their way to Dandrane’s office, feeling as if he were dragging along a third wheel. His appointment with Dandrane certainly wasn’t a _date_ , but…

It was as probably as close as he could get to one. Dandrane was proving to be as fun as she was beautiful, not to mention she was just flat out _interesting_. He had a lot of fun trying to tease her; she was so _relaxed_ about everything that he really wanted try and see what, at the very least, would make her nervous. He thought he might have gotten close last week, when she had taken a bit more time to answer him about what she was afraid of.

The poltergeist knew she had been lying, but he honestly wasn’t sure what he _would_ do if he ever found out what she was really weak to. He’d taunt her about it relentlessly, sure, but what else? Maybe…maybe he’d pin her down in her chair, tease her with the fact that an ex-Auror like her actually managed to slip up like that…

Oh, but she _was_ an Auror, wasn’t she…? She’d be more likely to pin _him_ down, likely at wand-point. Maybe they would struggle until one was on top of the other, and Peeves figured he might become rather distracted by that curvy warm body of hers pressed against his, whether or not they were fighting… No doubt Dandrane would manage to pin him to the wall, those long, smooth legs of hers trapping him as she raised her wand to his neck, her soft pink lips a few centimeters away from his own mouth, smirking down at him…

“Oh, her statue is asleep again,” the Fat Friar commented from behind Peeves, causing the poltergeist to jolt out of his fantasy. “I suppose we’ll have to knock.”

Peeves breathed in and out in a cheap effort to force away the thoughts of the provocative Dandrane in his head, and faced the office door with the reminder that it would be a bad idea to hit on the witch even if he was alone with her. The brass shii near his foot seemed to be dozing with one paw perched on top of its ball. “Oi!” he shouted at the statue - the brass dog snapped awake with a shake of its head, looking around before noticing the poltergeist.

“Oh, it’s you,” the shii grumbled in a deep voice. “You’re expected, you know.”

“Yeah, I _know_ ,” Peeves huffed impatiently, “but Phlegmy’s not expecting _him_ ,” he said, gesturing to the Friar.

The shii looked at the silvery ghost floating behind the poltergeist and went very still, looking rather blank until it opened its mouth again. “Go in, please.”

The heavy door swung open, revealing a sun-lit office. A small fire was crackling in the fireplace before her black-and-white armchairs, but the pieces of furniture were facing each other directly rather than standing side-by-side like normal.

“I’ll be right out!” Dandrane’s voice rang from somewhere in the adjacent bedroom. “Make yourselves at home!”

Deciding to take her at her word, Peeves sat on top of the closest chair’s back, swinging his legs over the seat as Friar Glaedwine cheerfully hovered in front of the fireplace, watching the orange flames dance over the very charred log.

“Sorry for the wait,” Dandrane said politely, emerging from her room whilst rubbing a towel over her short wet hair, lacking her sunglasses but sporting faded jeans with tears in several places and a black button-down shirt. She had kept her shirt completely buttoned up to the collar today; it was weird, since even when she wore a tie she _never_ buttoned the whole thing. It reminded Peeves of vampire stories where the victim would cover their neck wounds. “Friar! It’s so good to see you again!”

The Friar returned her smile somewhat sheepishly. “Sorry to tag along like this, Miss Flemming, but I was very curious about your little experiment.”

“Of course, of course!” Dandrane replied a little too happily, “The more the merrier! You can take a seat, I’ll just draw up a stool.”

Peeves watched as she drew a crude outline of a stool in midair with her wand; a tall wooden stool materialized near the two chairs. Dandrane promptly sat down on it and pulled a magnifying glass out of her trouser pocket as the Fat Friar sat in the opposing armchair.

“Okay, Peeves, first, I want to check some vitals. Is that okay with you?” Her voice sounded oddly clinical, as if she were conducting some kind of routine task. He’d never heard her talk like it before.

“Phlegmy, I don’t even normally _breathe_.”

“Humor me,” she waved her hand downwards. Peeves followed her gesture, sliding down onto the plush cushion as he watched her light up her wand. “You said ‘normally’ - do you have any occasions where you _do_ breathe?” She asked as she shown her wand in his eyes with an air of utmost seriousness; the blinding light obscured the Friar completely from view.

“When I need to talk,” Peeves replied. Dandrane tilted his head back as she looked straight at him, the blues of her eyes pinning him to his seat and making him feel oddly warm. Her hand was halfway in his hair and felt as warm and gentle as a caress - he could easily imagine what it would be like to have her fingers completely tangled in his hair... “Hadn’t you noticed...?” He said in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, thankful he could talk at all.

She gave a small chuckle, but it didn’t sound very authentic. “No, I hadn’t…” Dandrane held the magnifying glass over one of his eyes, looking deep in concentration. “Have you been underwater before?”

“Yup.”

“The Lake?”

“Uh huh.”

“Has water ever gotten in your lungs?”

Peeves blinked to adjust to the light as the magnifying glass and wand disappeared from view. He watched Dandrane pull out an odd tube with a ball inside from another pocket of her pants. “Probably…? What’s that?”

“Oh, it measures your breathing power. Just breathe into here,” she said, pointing to a protruding piece of yellow plastic with a hole at one end. “Take a deep breath for me.”

Peeves took a dramatically deep breath and blew hard into the plastic tube, half-listening when Dandrane instructed him to keep his breathing steady. He managed to keep the little white ball afloat for a good half minute; Dandrane scribbled something down on her miniature notebook with an ‘mm-hmm’.

“Good, good…” The witch gently grabbed hold of his left arm and pushed up his sleeve. “Let’s see,” Dandrane murmured in a lower voice that sent a small shiver up Peeves’ spine as she pressed her fingers into the inside of his wrist. As the poltergeist felt the warmth of her skin seep into his, it suddenly struck him that she had never actually _touched_ him before today.

And _shit_ , it was like a little fire had started in the nerves pressed under her silky fingers. As a slow burn blossomed over his skin, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was feeling the same way. The young professor looked deep in concentration – maybe thinking that her cheeks just looked a _little_ pinker was stretching it.

She let his arm go, leaving the poltergeist’s wrist to simmer in the air. “Peeves, undo your collar.”

He wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but he obliged anyway. “Really, Phelgmy, the Friar is right _there_ ,” he teased with a grin, watching a real smile flicker over her face, “but if you _insist…_ ”

It felt weird to do this as the ghostly Friar Glaedwine sat across from him, but he wasn’t sure if it was because he was undressing in front of a very attractive woman or the fact he was being watched by a ghost that caused him to fumble a little with his tie. Just what was this _leading to?_

He found out as soon as his tie was loose enough- the professor put one hand over his throat, pressing her fingers into the area around his Adam’s apple as she began to stare at the second hand tick by on her tiny plastic watch. Peeves’ heart pounded in his chest as he took in the new sensation, feeling like her hand was almost searing his skin as his amortal magic pumped hard around her fingers.

And _fuck_ did it feel good. He didn’t want her to stop. Her hand was soft, yet with a fairly strong grip; he had no doubt she could drag him around by the collar if she wanted. He felt a wonderful, _wild_ urge for her to press harder and make him _really_ feel it…

She let him go before he knew it, jotting something down as his nerves continued to boil, the perverted part of the poltergeist’s brain now giddily wondering what it would be like if she decided to stick her hand down his _pants_.

“What are you writing down, Miss Flemming?” the Friar inquired from his chair, halting Peeves’ fantasies for the second time that day. The interruption was annoying, but he was grateful - pitching a tent in front of them would be incredibly awkward.

Dandrane looked up briefly, giving the Friar an indulgent little smile. “I was measuring his pulse. I’m honestly surprised he’s got one, I wasn’t sure if he had blood or not. I think his pulse is higher than a human’s, but I seriously wonder how that works if he doesn’t breathe…” The professor tapped her chin thoughtfully, her expression reminding Peeves of the so-called ‘serious business’ face she had demonstrated before. “So how did you get into the Black Lake anyway, Peeves?”

“I went for a swim, how else?” He thanked every star that his voice came out okay; it was hard to concentrate when his skin tingled this much.

There came a spark of humor in her eyes as she smirked back at him a little, looking more like her usual self and making Peeves feel more relaxed, despite his heart still pounding. “Smart-ass. I meant how did you get _down_ to the Lake? Did you float down, or did you get flushed down?”

Peeves gave her a malicious grin. “Don’t put me on the same page as _Myrtle_. I go down there on purpose! Swimming’s pretty fun,” he said as he leaned against the armrest. “Even though I can’t talk to the merpeople without blowing bubbles, they’re still a barrel of laughs. Don’t seem to like people much - or spirits, for that matter.”

“What about Dumbledore?” Glaedwine piped up from the opposing chair. “They seemed to get along well with him.”

“‘s hard to find anyone who didn’t get along with ol’ Dumble. Weird fellow, that one.”

Dandrane’s didn’t break her professional demeanor again, though she looked a little mischievous. “Oh? Even _you_ got along with the old Headmaster? That’s surprising – you strike me as the type who dislikes authority.”

“Yeah, but he still managed to get on my nerves sometimes. He was hard to upset. Except for when those dementors were here,” Peeves smiled fondly at the memory of the general misery around the castle. “He was _furious_ when they interrupted a Quidditch match that year - caused a kid to fall unconscious off his broom and almost _die_. That was a good day...”

The witch eyed him knowingly, but her tone was as cool as a cucumber. “Are you telling me Dumbledore had an outburst?”

“Yup!” _Only got the residual magic from that one, the bastard. The Headship was clever enough to keep me out of his rooms until he calmed down._ “ _You_ ever been in the Lake, Phlegmy?”

“No, not yet. I can’t say I’m very fond of the idea, knowing what’s down there.”

“Aw, but you’ll miss seeing the giant squid! I once got it to fling me around underwater before putting me back on the surface; that was _great_ fun!”

“Really,” Dandrane chuckled dryly, “how do you not get _bruises_ from something that big swinging you around?”

Actually, now that Peeves thought about it, he never bothered to see if he _had_ bruises. Or any sort of injuries at all, for that matter. He put it down to his excellent dodging skills. “Never thought about it. I don’t think I’ve even bled before.”

“Well, I’d hate to hurt you, even if it _was_ for science… Still, I’m going to need to see if I can get some fluid off of you. That _is_ why you’re here.” That was true, but for some reason, the way she phrased it almost…kinda _hurt_. “Open your mouth for me, okay?” Dandrane asked pleasantly, holding up a thin cotton swab poking out of an orange plastic tube.

“What are you going to do with that, Miss Flemming?” Glaedwine piped up from his chair as if he was reading Peeves’ mind.

The Defense professor turned to the ghost with a very lecture-like expression. “I’m going to take a spit sample and send it off to a school friend of mine; she’s doing research on magical human genomes. She agreed to look at whatever I send her and give me a report in exchange for a small fee. Since modern medical science can get a DNA sample from just a swab of a person’s mouth, I figured this would be the best way to get it.”

Peeves raised an eyebrow, not quite understanding what she was talking about. “What _exactly_ are you trying to find out?”

Dandarne blinked. “Oh, well… I wanted to know if your DNA - your genetic code - was anything like a humans.  I’m honestly just curious about what exactly you’re _made_ of,” she explained, looking odd. “You’re very unusual, Peeves... You’re the only poltergeist in the world that has a physical form all the time - or at least, in recorded history.”

“Guess the other guys are seriously losing their touch! If they had it in the first place.”

“That’s a terrible pun,” Dandrane commented with a wry smile, “but you’re not wrong. There’s always been the question of why poltergeists don’t like to be seen. I always wondered if a physical form wasn’t just proof of how much power they had…”

“Phlegmy, you _tease_ , you’re just inflating my ego _further_.”

The pink-haired witch seemed to be holding herself back, as amusement clearly sparked in her eyes, but it just barely scraped the edge of her voice. “Well then, use it to prove my theory and open up your mouth.”

Peeves complied, dramatically sticking his tongue out as she ran the cotton swab over the inside of his cheek. “Speaking of opening up,” he commented as Dandrane closed the case around the swab and proceeded to work her quill over a fresh page, “that delightful little note you sent was interesting. _Glaedwine_ here told me that it’s enchanted with more than just a homing spell. What else did you use, Phlegmy?”

“Just a couple of insurance policies. I don’t like it when people snoop through my letters.”

“ _Do_ tell,” Peeves goaded as the Friar became visibly concerned.

Dandrane snorted, eyeing him with another hint of humor. “Come on, Peeves, I worked for _Congress_. If you don’t secure your messages, they get intercepted by some ‘well-meaning’ bureaucrat who thinks the legal department needs to know everything you do every second of the day. They practically jump out from behind desks to tell you not to be friendly with other people’s bosses, since it can be used as evidence in court about bargaining or some shit. Oh, uh, sorry, Friar,” the woman gave a little apologetic glance in the ghost’s direction, “slip of the tongue.”

“ _I_ heard it burnt a kid’s hands. Didn’t think our professie would do _that_.”

“It’s magical, it’ll fade quickly,” she explained, looking a little guilty, “but kids shouldn’t snoop through people’s notes, either.”

“What _other_ charms did you use?”

“Tracking charm, anti-summoning charm, navigation charm, and an anti-inflammable spell. And one where it tears itself apart if someone else other than the writer or recipient manages to open it.”

The Friar looked on in worry, as if he’d never heard of such a thing being done before. “Isn’t that a bit _much_ , Professor?”

“Better safe than sorry,” Dandrane shut her little notebook with a mysterious smile; Peeves saw no trace of real humor there. “You never know what weird ideas people will get into their heads. Now, Friar, there’s _one_ experiment I wanted to test on you, if you don’t mind.”

The poltergeist felt his brain swim as he watched the professor fuss about the ghost, trying to see if she could pick up some sort of residual material from him if he passed through enchanted objects. Now that it had a free moment, his mind was on completely other matters:  why was Dandrane so damn _weird_ today? She hardly cracked a smile, and even when he could tell she was enjoying herself, she kept her professional face on.

It was like he was getting mixed messages. Habit or not, she had made damn sure that note to him wasn’t going to go into anyone else’s hands, as if meeting him was supposed to be strictly confidential, but she acted so _put-off_ the whole time. Would it have been any different if Friar Glaedwine weren’t there?

Well…he knew it would be, at least on _his_ end.  The tether on his self-restraint – which had never been very strong in the first place – was getting thin. He wanted to do something. Touch her, joke about how hot she was maybe, he wasn’t sure, but _something_.

Then again, it was probably for the best that Glaed had come along. Peeves didn’t fancy the idea of rejection, especially by this weird, too-serious version of Dandrane. It made his chest hurt a little, actually.

He should probably wait until she was in a good mood to do anything risky.

He sat there for a while, watching the beautiful witch scrawl down notes as she managed to get ‘ectoplasm’ off a piece of paper, and wondered how long she’d be in this strange mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I…I don’t really have a good excuse for taking this long. Lots of things got in my way, the majority of which was real life shit, and a smidgeon of which was me mentally preparing for/coping with the end of Gravity Falls, which has been such a big part of my life that it’s taken quite a bit out of me. I’ve also had to edit and re-edit this chapter because I didn’t like how it turned out for SO long. What you see is probably, what, the fifth version of this thing? I really wanted to upload two chapters at once, too, since I took so long updating, but…uh, well, I’m still working on the next one. The good news is that it’s one I was looking forward to writing, and the ones after it will be even more fun for me to get into. Hopefully, I’ll have the next chapter done by the end of March or early April, but no promises. But I tell you what - since you've all been waiting so long, I'll give you a little clue about next chapter: "Oyster". 
> 
> As you noticed, I decided to give the Fat Friar a proper name. "Glaedwine" is Anglo-Saxon, meaning "cheerful friend". I figured it suited him, since in every instance we've seen him in the books he was upbeat and kind. The Friar seems to be the sort to see the best in others, so I figured he'd would be one of the few ghosts on better terms with Peeves. I wish we got to see more of the Friar in the books, since his Pottermore background is rather interesting. I mean, a wizard who became a man of the cloth and used his skills to heal muggles despite his religion strictly forbidding witchcraft? Who doesn't want to hear more about that?!
> 
> Lastly, can I ask a favor of you, dear reader(s)? If you see any weird grammar errors or pronoun misuse or something, can you please, PLEASE point them out to me in a comment? I re-read my whole word document and noticed a couple of glaring errors that I have to go back and fix. I’d also really appreciate any sort of feedback on this story. It gets hits, but that alone doesn’t tell me much. I don’t know if any of you actually like what I’m writing, or if you’re having a bit of a laugh at it, or if you’re just morbidly curious where it’s going. You don’t even have to use words to tell me how you feel about it - an emoticon would suffice. (⌐■_■)b


	8. Out of Bounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE ARE NOW OFFICIALLY PAST THE 100 PAGE MARK! Today's chapter marks 125 pages of story!! I can’t believe it, this is the most for a single piece of fanfiction I’ve ever written in my life! Cheers to you, readers!!!

The castle was buzzing with the usual mix of excitement and dread that so often accompanied the morning of a Quidditch match. Throngs of students were seen sporting as much blue or green as they could wear and anyone with a discerning eye could pick out which students were placing bets under the teacher’s noses.

Peeves always got a kick out of mornings like this. He waited, invisible, just above the doors of the Great Hall to suck up the lively energy that accumulated within. And of course, he never passed up the chance to knock the door into someone who got close enough.

He’d been there for half an hour, and yet there had been no sign of Professor Pink-Hair. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d slept in on a weekend, but he knew he saw her up and about during the _last_ Quidditch match, looking particularly groggy amongst the rest of the staff.

Normally, Peeves would brush it off, but considering how she had acted the other day he couldn’t help but wonder if something was _wrong_ with her.

With one last deep metaphorical breath of fresh magic, the poltergeist turned and zoomed up to the second floor, shooting through walls and floors until he landed squarely in Dandrane’s bedroom.

The sun shone onto her empty, shoddily-made bed and rumpled black t-shirt he assumed she had slept in. Her bathroom was dark, too… At least it ruled out the possibility of her being sick.

He went straight through the wall of her office, figuring that if she wasn’t in there she’d be in the classroom, and came out right in the middle of the mantelpiece, face-to-face with the witch herself.

Though she was sporting her trademark sunglasses, Dandrane looked genuinely surprised to see him. She stood there silently with one hand holding the strap of her dark green alligator purse and the other clutching a handful of glittering powder.

“And here I thought teachers _had_ to attend Quidditch matches,” Peeves taunted, practically feeling spite brew on his tongue.

“Yeah,” Dandrane said, sounding a tad nervous, “but I told Pomfrey that I had a terrible migraine and reacted badly to headache potions.”

“So where _are_ you going?”

“London.”

“What _for_?”

“Peeves,” she remarked in a no-nonsense sort of tone, “I’m going to be late…”

Peeves felt his left eye twitch. She was still being that horrid uncharacteristically-serious person from the other day, and on _top_ of that she was even more secretive than usual. It sounded almost like she was talking to one of those blabbering students who had too many questions.   

“Oh, _are you?_ Suppose you want me to get out of the _way_ for you?” Peeves sneered, “I came all this way to talk to you, and I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on.”

The professor seemed to study him for a moment (though it was sort of hard to tell) before giving a sort of defeated sigh. “I was afraid you would say something like that. Alright, as long as you stay close, you can come with me; we’ll talk on the way there.”

At first, Peeves felt optimistic. He had never truly made it out of the castle grounds before, and here she was, inviting him to the biggest city in the country! If it worked, he’d have one of the most interesting days of his entire existence. But from everything he’d heard over his hundreds of years around magic folk, Floo powder was supposed to be _fast_ travel... “‘On the way there’? Can you actually talk during this?”

“I have to take the subway, too. Or, uh, ‘Underground’, as they call it here. You coming or what?”

Peeves had no idea what a ‘subway’ was, but it sounded interesting enough. It would be very, _very_ stupid of him to pass up an opportunity like this, so the poltergeist backed up into the fireplace, moving aside so the professor could have some room for herself.

He could feel her eyes on him as she stepped into the fireplace, standing shoulder-to-shoulder next to him. It was a tight squeeze. “You’ve never travelled by Floo before, right?”

“If I did, I’d be banned the world over,” he replied with a grin.

Dandrane gave an odd sort of chuckle. “I figured. Okay, I know this is going to be a little weird, but for one, you’re going to have to stand on the ground.” She slung her purse over her shoulder as Peeves lowered himself so his the soles of his curly-toed shoes were actually touching the ash-covered floor. “And two, you’re going to have to hold onto me,” she said with a completely straight face as she sneakily curled an arm around his shoulders, pulling him towards her slightly. “Two people can’t travel together otherwise.”

Oh _Merlin_ , could he feel _that_. Her fingers were pressing gently into his arm, and even through his three layers of clothes he could feel warmth sink into his skin. He could smell the clean black leather of her zippered jacket now that his head was centimeters away from her chest. It was all somehow both stimulating and comfortable, almost like he was dreaming…

Maybe it was his instinct to want to annoy her in any way possible, but Peeves found himself wrapping both arms around her waist not a moment later. He could feel her belt buckle poke at his ribs as he pressed a little closer to her, rather liking the foreign feel of leather against his skin. “Then this is fine, right?” He grinned into her coat, feeling her tense up underneath him in response. He could practically feel her struggle to withhold her embarrassment, but she kept her hold on him as her body heat sank into him, pushing his sudden need to get himself as close to her as possible. 

“THE DRAGON’S HOARD!” Dandrane shouted, and suddenly they were engulfed in emerald green flames and a deafening roar. Peeves felt an immense force press against every muscle in his body while his brain practically rattled in his skull. He wanted to shut his eyes, but the pressure wouldn’t allow for any more movement; it was as if he had stolen a broom and was flying it at high speed.

It stopped as suddenly as it started. He felt the witch jolt just as he heard a loud sort of slapping noise, followed by a worried “are you ok?” and a definite slack in her grip around him.

Despite his head swimming, Peeves glanced up, noticing that they were surrounded by soot-covered red bricks, and realized that he was still clutching at her rather hard. He forced his fingers to loosen as he pulled away, hearing his knuckles crack; he wasn’t sure if he actually _was_ ok. “Does it always feel like that?”

Dandrane smiled in relief, finally sounding more like her usual self. “I get a killer headache after every trip. At least I stopped us from falling out of the fireplace this time.” The professor dropped the arm that propped them up against the brickwork.

Peeves felt weirdly better just looking at her. “Where _are_ we?”

“A pub called ‘The Dragon’s Hoard’. I overheard the bartender at The Black Cauldron complaining about it when I first arrived in town – apparently the kid who runs the place decided to open only the top floor to magic folks and keeps the storefront for muggles,” she explained as they completely removed themselves from the fireplace, stepping into a small private dining room with some eclectic furniture and a tattered oriental rug. “I was originally supposed to meet my friend here, but she owled me and told me something came up, so we have to go to her hotel instead.”

The poltergeist couldn’t believe it - he really _was_ outside of Hogwarts. The dining room was sort of dark and had smells of old wood polish, frying oil, and cigar smoke. There were immobile paintings he’d never seen before hung on the walls, all still in their cheap frames and sitting side-by-side with decorative plates and tiny ancient photographs. He flew to the window, almost pressing his nose against the cold glass as he stared at the people walking on the sidewalk before a great fenced stone building. He could see real cars and traffic lights and _so many muggles-_

“You can stare more when we get outside, you know,” Dandrane said from behind, “we’ll miss the train if we don’t get moving.” Peeves turned just in time to see her down half of what he assumed to be a potion for headaches in a short vial and shove it back into the pocket of her jeans.

“Who was it you said you were meeting, again?” Peeves asked innocently as they made their way down the nearby staircase, passing giant posters for various kinds of beers and whiskeys, all apparently muggle brands.

“An old friend of mine from Bayard; she’s going to be handling your spit sample. You’ll meet her too, you know.”

The downstairs of the tavern was far different from the upstairs – it was brightly lit with a dozen square tables, every side surrounded by matching chairs. The floor was old but almost as well-polished as the bar, where a young man that couldn’t have been older than twenty was replacing one of the taps.

“Hey Will,” Dandrane said brightly from around the corner as the young man jumped a foot in the air, accidentally hitting a tap and spraying beer over himself and the counter, “thanks for letting me floo here!”

“ _Christ!_ Don’t scare me like that!” he exclaimed, whipping a towel out from his apron. “You know brunch doesn’t start for another half an hour, yeah?”

“I know, sorry, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to try your famous beer-battered fish today. There’s been a change of plans, so can I just pop back in to use your fireplace in another three hours or so?” Dandrane asked with a pleading sort of tone; due to the _slight_ upturn of the corner of her mouth and the humorous glint in her eyes, Peeves guessed she wasn’t being very sincere.

Will looked rather disappointed, but he just barely opened his mouth to speak when he spotted Peeves’ floating just behind the witch. The man’s jaw fell open as his expression changed to one of disgusted surprise. “What is HE doing here?!”

“Well _that’s_ no way to treat an old school chum, is it?” Peeves grinned as angry magic began to leak into the air. “Though, I don’t quite remember which _William_ you are… You’ll have to get back to me on that.”

“Shut it! I don’t know how you got out, but YOU’RE not allowed in here! Ever! And YOU,” he shot a glare towards Dandrane, “I don’t know how you got him out of Hogwarts, but you’d be better off putting him right back in the circle of hell he belongs in!”

Dandrane switched to a more professional manner, seeming like she had done this a thousand times before; though Peeves had the feeling she was secretly enjoying herself. “There’s no need to worry, Will; I assure you I have a tight leash on Peeves. We’ll just be in and out once more, and I’ll make _sure_ he doesn’t try to cause any problems with you or any of your customers on the way.”

William visibly softened a bit, but as he resumed cleaning up the spilled beer he gave another cross look at the spirit as if he were a spot of filth on the wall. “You’d _better_.  Tell my sister that you want the private dining room if you’re going to use my fireplace again. And don’t even _think_ of bringing him back!”

“I will, and I promise I won’t,” Dandrane said politely before heading towards the door. “Come on, Peeves.”

Peeves blew a short raspberry at the young bartender as he floated after the professor, feeling a little cheery at the thought of putting the guy in a foul mood for the rest of the day. His good mood doubled the second he could smell of the streets of London  – petrol, ozone, various kinds of food, and odd mixes of things he hadn’t smelled before all blended together in the air. There were some people walking towards them, too, and he felt the urge to just shove one over and see if he could get any sort of magic from them.

Dandrane, however, had a very simple way of distracting him – she simply grabbed him gently by the wrist and began to walk towards the street corner, keeping her hand low so no one would notice. He expected the simmering feeling to accompany it, but she had apparently taken the precaution to wear gloves this time. _When did she put those on?_

“We’ll talk in a minute,” she muttered as they made their way down James Road, “just give me until the next stop light.”

Peeves was very curious as to what she was going to do. Surely she wasn’t going to whip out her wand and conceal herself in public, where literal crowds of muggles in both the street and passing cars could see? He knew she was smart enough to have done that in the pub if she were going to do _that_ … Actually, why did she not bother to conceal _him_?

Well, he only had to look around to know that one. Apparently, he was always invisible to muggles – he passed by so many already, but no one even bothered to look at him. Didn’t Dandrane mention something ages ago about muggles not being able to see even wizard ghosts? Maybe the same principle applied to him.

While he floated alongside the professor, Peeves took in the many different sights. They passed by great buildings made of far newer materials than Hogwarts, automobiles in weird shapes and colors that were both stationary and mobile, and there were so many people Peeves felt sure he’d lose himself in trying to figure out what to do to every single one. He also kept seeing his reflection in windows, being pulled around alongside Dandrane’s confident stride.

It was strange to see himself like this, and yet… he couldn’t help but feel sort of _happy_ about it. He had felt sort of warm all over ever since she grabbed him, despite the fact that she was wearing gloves. Peeves wasn’t quite sure why this all was, but he didn’t really mind; it was a new feeling, and a rather enjoyable one.

They came to a stoplight, and Dandrane let go of Peeves’ wrist in order to search through her purse with two hands, suddenly looking a little frazzled. He was going to ask what she was doing, but just as he opened his mouth, she retrieved something covered in what looked like blue plastic and shiny metal and held it up to her ear. “Hello?” she asked a convincingly frantic voice as she re-positioned her purse on her arm. “Oh, _hey!_ ” she spoke cheerfully to no one, “Sorry for the wait, my phone was buried at the bottom of my purse and I can just _barely_ feel it when it’s on vibrate in there. What’s up?”

The witch glanced sideways at Peeves, looking expectant as she put her free hand back down at her hip. _So she’s going to talk to nobody while we walk? Doesn’t that look suspicious?_

“You’re going to have to speak up a bit; it’s hard to hear you here.”

“Phlegmy, is that thing _normal_ for muggles?”

“Yeah, man, that’s _much_ better. So what did you want to talk about?”

This wasn’t the ideal way he wanted to talk to her – though he really wasn’t sure what he _did_ want – but it was better than nothing. “ _You_ , actually,” Peeves said as he casually slipped his hand back into hers, taking the opportunity to experimentally wrap his fingers around her palm; he felt her hand stiffen, but he didn’t care. “You’ve been acting weird lately.” The poltergeist stared at her as they made their way across the intersection, not caring if he passed through someone in his path. He heard someone behind him give an audible shudder as they walked by, but he focused more on the blank expression the witch was giving instead. “It’s annoying…”

“I see,” Dandrane’s voice was unwaveringly serious and contemplative. There was no trace of humor anywhere on her face. “How so?”

“Why do I have to explain it to you?! You KNOW this isn’t like you!” Peeves replied a little too loudly, feeling his face grow warm as his temper rose.

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh _come on_ , don’t try to bullshit me, Phlegmy!” he shouted, glaring at the witch as they passed by a group of giggling teenagers, “You’ve been weird since _Tuesday_ , when we were talking in your office! It’s like you’ve been _forcing_ yourself to be serious!”

They paused for another stoplight, Dandrane moving aside so Peeves wouldn’t pass through any of the small crowd that formed around them.

“Were you worried?” Dandrane asked, side-eying him.

The poltergeist couldn’t quite meet her gaze, so he focused on the group of people standing behind her. He didn’t want to admit to neither her nor himself that he was actually concerned for someone. He was a spirit of _chaos_ \- he wasn’t _supposed_ to feel like this. Why should that change, when he hadn’t cared much about anyone in over eight-hundred years?

“I see,” she trailed off as the crowd began to move again. He hadn’t answered her, so he wasn’t sure why she responded, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say and stared ahead again. It wasn’t until they reached the other side of the crosswalk that she spoke again. “I’m sorry.”

“ _Sorry?_ ” He glanced up at her with a loss for any more words. Dandrane’s too-blue eyes stared forward – it was the first time he ever saw her look a little…well, _sad_.

“I’ve… I’ve just been going through some things. I don’t know if I could even explain it properly… But, just so you know,” she paused to give him an apologetic smile, “I don’t like it either.”

Peeves wasn’t sure how to respond. If she didn’t _like_ acting this way, why was she doing it?

“I guess I’m not doing _either_ of us any favors. I’ll try to loosen up a bit from now on.”

“Are you… _coping_ with something?” _That’s what it’s called, right? Coping mechanisms or whatever?_

“You could say that... Like I said, I don’t think I can explain it. I guess I just thought being like this would help. I’m just being stupid.”

Peeves didn’t know what to say to that, either. Still, he felt a little better knowing that she was going to try and be her normal self again.

As they turned left, the spirit couldn’t help but notice the crowd that emerged from the very modern looking building halfway down the street. The words ‘BOND STREET STATION’ were half-hidden under a weird triangular wired archway.

“Hey, speaking of stupid, I’m about to board a train during what looks like rush hour. I honestly didn’t think it’d be this crowded on a Saturday morning.”

Peeves’ mood perked up considerably. He’d never been on the Hogwart’s Express, but a train meant people, and people meant great opportunities for some fun.

“I need to buy a ticket, so I’ll have to talk to you later. I’ll call when I get off, okay?”

Dandrane hit a button and shoved the blue plastic device into her jacket pocket as they turned into the station. It was completely unlike the one he’d seen at Hogsmeade – well, saw from the grounds, anyway. Hogsmeade’s train station was open to the air, allowing passengers to get on and off on one side to the dirt-and-cobblestone streets of the village. This muggle station was entirely different – there were a line of giant grey plastic rectangles with red words that scrolled by on them near the entrance, prompting people to buy tickets and listing the prices; people were positioned at several of them, pushing buttons and watching more words blink at them from a white glass square in the center.

Peeves had never seen anything like it in his _life_.

Dandrane, however, seemed to be very used to the sight. She strode up to the nearest empty one with Peeves in hand and flashed him a look that the poltergeist interpreted as ‘don’t think of going anywhere’. She needn’t have bothered, he didn’t want to anyway. “What _are_ these things?”

“Automatic ticket booth,” the witch whispered out of the corner of her mouth. Peeves read along with the scrolling and blinking text screens (‘Please deposit £4’) as Dandrane inserted what he figured must have been muggle money into a slot with flashing green arrows above it. One change of text later and a plastic card (‘Oyster Card’ was printed on the top) ejected itself from a different slot as if the thing was magic. “Four pounds for a day, that’s nuts,” Dandrane muttered to herself, pocketing the card and making her way towards the long staircase heading down. “A step above New York, I guess.”

The stairs weren’t as packed as they could’ve been, but Peeves watched several people pass through him in a rush to get down. He didn’t understand why, as when they reached the bottom of the stairs they all had to slide their cards over a ‘scanner’ in order to walk through the metal gates, and there was clearly no train on the other side. The clock sticking out from the wall read 9:35.  

It was sort of eerie to stand there amongst the crowd, as it felt like Peeves was in a giant cold tube. The walls were white with giant green stipes that flowed further into the tunnel; Dandrane marched them to the far ends of the crowd and leaned against the wall nonchalantly.

“Well, we haven’t missed the train,” she mumbled to him. “So we’ve got three stops until we get off and switch trains, and then just one stop from there to the hotel. If you _want_ ,” she gave a bit of a grin, “I can let you go for a bit and you can fool around.”

Peeves turned to her, his eyes wide. “Really?” he squealed, unable to contain his excitement.

“On two conditions.”

His mood plummeted instantly. “Of _course_ ,” he pouted with a little grunt. “I should’ve known there was a catch.”

“Don’t hurt anyone. That means no _pushing_ , either,” she said with a significant look. “And stick near me; try to stay within four yards.”

“Deal,” Peeves grinned; as soon as Dandrane let go of his hand, he shot himself over to the crowd.

It was hilarious how much discourse could be made by tapping someone’s shoulder a few times. The teenage boy he chose laughed it off at first, then got angrier and angrier at his friend who swore up and down he wasn’t touching him; on the fourth tap, an argument burst out and Peeves doubled over laughing at the looks on the kid’s faces. It got better when an older woman told them to ‘just shut the fuck up’ in a heavy northern accent. Weirdly enough though, there was a slightly strange feeling in the air afterward, not unlike a small amount of the emotionally-charged magic he absorbed from wizards. He absorbed a little of it experimentally – it didn’t feel any different from normal…

The squealing breaks of the arriving train broke Peeves out of his thoughts on what to do next. He re-joined Dandrane, who had pulled out a pair of over-the-ear headphones at some point and was listening to something rather loud with what sounded like a long drum solo; Peeves could see the outline of her tape recorder in her jacket pocket.

The train itself was sleek and silver on the outside, with doors that opened automatically and weirdly shaped seats on the inside, the whole car smelling like people with a dash of metal. Peeves watched some people clamber into the few empty seats, leaving the rest to grab onto odd leathery straps that dangled from overhead bars. Dandrane herself grabbed one nearest the opposite-side door, beckoning him over with a nod of her head.

He floated over, but as soon as he got near, she quietly advised him to hang on to something.

The doors shut with a weird ‘bing-bong’ noise and the train started to move, forcing Peeves sideways through a few rows of seats before he grabbed onto a person’s shoulders for support. _Why didn’t she tell me earlier to stand?!_

He looked over and saw the satisfied smile on her face, and he knew why:  she _knew_ he’d float around everywhere rather than stay put on the ground. Part of him thought this was a bitch move, but a bigger part admired her for the joke.

The now very disturbed person whose shoulders he was grasping was looking very shaken when Peeves let go and grabbed onto a nearby pole.

Peeves spent his time between the next two stops fiddling around with people’s bags on the racks or the floor:  he rearranged the contents by shoving his hand through and mucking about, loosened the wheels or handles on people’s travel bags when he was sure people weren’t looking, and in the emptier corner near Dandrane he slowly shuffled a person’s shopping down to the farthest end of the rack. He also found he could make the lights flicker by touching them, which sent a pleasant little jolt through his fingertips and made muggles glance somewhat worryingly at the ceiling.

Things got a little more interesting when Peeves, whilst dangling upside down with his feet in a pair of vacant straps, felt like he was being watched. Dandrane was a little more than three yards away on the same side of the train; she glanced over at him occasionally with a turn of her head, probably to make sure he was there, but other than that…

There was a newly-boarded kid – a guy who couldn’t be a day older than eighteen in a much worn hooded sweatshirt – who kept giving long, increasingly-nervous glances in his direction. Peeves knew that look. It was the look of someone who noticed him but wanted to appear like they had no idea he was there, and yet wanted to make sure _he_ hadn’t noticed _them_. Usually, those kids were either of the younger, more _wary_ variety, or it was a kid who was up to something and didn’t want to be caught.

But this one certainly wasn’t a wizard. Not only had Peeves never seen him before, but any witch or wizard would’ve known right away that he was a magical being and not a figment of the imagination. There was also the fact that magical humans - even squibs - tended to have what silly old Trelawney referred to as ‘auras’, which was really a fancy word for a constant stream of magical energy that could be felt within a relatively close radius. And this kid might as well not have been there at all for the energy he was putting out.

The young man threw Peeves another look, and Peeves couldn’t help but give a slow, rather evil grin back. The kid immediately looked away.

“Oi, kid-”

The teenager pretended not to hear.

“Don’t _ignore_ me. I _know_ you can see me.”

The boy glanced back over, looking rather pale. Peeves chuckled heartily as he put himself upright, bending to grab the handles and then swinging himself around with a noticeable clang against the bar. A few people looked up for a second, but then went back to not paying attention.

“You don’t _feel_ like a squib; _must_ be muggle,” Peeves grinned, “You know what I am?”

The teenager said nothing, but looked at a loss for words. The poltergeist couldn’t help but snicker – it was too perfect.

“You see that chick with the pink hair?” Peeves asked tauntingly, planting his feet on the vacant seat underneath him so he could let go of the bars to point at Dandrane. “She’s only got a couple of _hours_ left here.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie, so she couldn’t fault him on that if she tried.

The teen stared at the professor with alarm; when he landed his eyes back on Peeves, he looked even more frightened, as if he couldn’t believe his ears. He looked back at the young woman, shuffling a little and clenching his jaw with the clear look of someone who was debating on what to do.

“No use telling her about it,” the poltergeist leered with a derisive chuckle, “it won’t change anything.”

 _Bing-bong_. “Now arriving - Holborn Station,” a muffled woman’s voice said from what seemed like the ceiling. The train began to slow to a halt with a little screech, and Peeves looked over at Dandrane, who was moving closer to the station-side door.

With one last smirk at the frightened teen, Peeves floated out of the train car after the professor, humming the funeral march to himself for added affect, not caring whether or not the kid could hear him with all the other noise.

They were just making their way through the crowd, heading towards the second set of tracks when a voice called out from behind them:  “Hey! Hey, _wait!_ ”

Whether or not she heard anything through her headphones, Dandrane kept walking and didn’t turn around until a hand grasped her upper arm.

She turned to face the teenage boy and fixed him with an annoyed grimace as she pulled her arm free of his light grip. “ _What_?” She growled, her face screwed up in irritation as she pulled her headphones down to her neck. The kid was a few centimeters taller than her, but he still seemed a little intimidated; Peeves didn’t know if this was from her expression or because he was floating gleefully behind the witch. “What do you _want_?”

The teen darted his eyes to Peeves for a moment. “Sorry, look, I know this sounds crazy…” He swallowed, his brown eyes pleading with her. “Look, you should be careful, okay? There’s… There’s something _following_ you.”

“Oh _really?_ ” Dandrane sneered, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Is it some punk who thinks he can just manhandle a lady in the middle of the Underground?”

“I’m sorry, really, just please-” (the kid looked so lost, Peeves couldn’t help but laugh into his hands) “ _please_ listen to me. There’s this thing following you, I don’t know what it is, I saw it in the tube and – and it said you were going to _die_ today!”

“ _Seriously?_ ” Dandrane’s face broke into a mocking smile as her voice sounded almost…hopeful? Peeves couldn’t quite understand why that _was_ , but she covered it up by laughing at the poor sap in front of her. “Yeesh, kid, I don’t know what you’re taking, but-”

“ _I’m not_ _taking_ _anything_!” He exclaimed, going a little pink; Peeves felt a small amount of odd magic in the air, which he quickly absorbed. “It’s right behind you!” The teenager pointed above her shoulder, which Peeves was now leaning against on one arm. “You just can’t see it, I’m the only one on there who could, it singled me out-” he babbled, looking more frantic as Dandrane’s smile waned.

“Listen, kid,” she interrupted in a sort of amused tone, “I really don’t care if there’s something there or not. If I die today, then that’s that. Technically, you could die today, too, just by tripping up the stairs here and cracking open your skull or something.”

Peeves rested his head in his now propped-up hand, feeling as gleeful as a goat on coffee as the teenager’s expression fell. “I told you it was no use,” he said smugly, feeling more weird magic ebb its way into the air.

“Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got stuff to do.” With that, Dandrane yanked her headphones back over her ears and made her way towards the ‘blue line’ train that, by the sound of it, was due any moment. Peeves followed her, cackling to himself as he sarcastically waved to the very defeated-looking teenager.

When they boarded the other train (which was far more crowded), Dandrane grasped his hand and again chose a spot near the opposing door, making sure he was in front of her as she grasped the nearest pole. Peeves felt himself get squished slightly against the glass as the train began to move.

The professor shuffled closer to him, determinedly bracing herself against the thick crowd of people behind her as she let her hand slip out of his and go back into her pocket.

It was a quiet ride, but Peeves didn’t mind. For one, Dandrane was close enough to him that he could feel her body heat press slightly against him, making him feel a little excited. He didn’t dare look her in the face, because he knew he might do or say something stupid, so he concentrated on looking out the window or at the muggles sitting nearby. For two, he could hear her music, which switched between what he knew to be punk and what was likely some of the twenty-year-old metal albums she had stored away in her trunks. Some of the sounds were new to him, but he found himself rather liking the noisy music.

And for three, it gave him a little time to think. Like why Dandrane had sounded so happy when that stupid kid had told her she was going to die - she couldn’t have possibly heard Peeves talk on the train through both her music and the few conversations carrying on nearby, so she must have been genuinely annoyed at the guy stopping her. The witch was rather quick to figure things out, though, so she might have started playing along after the kid told her something was following her…

Oh. _OH_. Of _course_ she was happy, the kid literally pointed at Peeves and said he could hear the poltergeist talk! No one on the streets had noticed Peeves at all, and here was a muggle who just so happened to see him.

Then again, could he _really_ call the teen a muggle? He didn’t put out the same magical aura as squibs or wizards, but he clearly had enough magic in his human body to see a spirit, and he and every other muggle Peeves had played with so far gave off a weird sort of emotional magic in their little outbursts. The kid was a little more special. Maybe he was a half squib or something…if there _was_ such a thing.

 _Bing-bong_. “N-w ar-ivi-g at Rus--ll Squa-e,” the voice said amidst a sort of fuzzy noise.

Peeves floated through several muggles as he made his way out of the crowded train to follow Dandrane, who had pulled her headphones down to her neck and shoved her hands in her pockets, her music silenced for the time being. The station was packed, and the poltergeist found himself hanging onto Dandrane’s arm as if she were escorting him. He didn’t really _need_ to, but with so many people she was bound to knock into _someone_ \- he’d rather not deal with having her fall over. Plus, he had the opportunity to feel her leather jacket as much as he wanted without making things weird.

She didn’t seem to mind, at least, and she seemed to navigate the crowd easily, only hitting shoulders with one person who wasn’t paying attention. He watched as she slid her plastic card through a slot in front of a set of thick metal tubes that Peeves guessed was supposed to be another sort of gate. Honestly, he wondered why people just didn’t _climb_ over it and get in for free when no one was looking.

Outside the station was just as busy, but it looked incredibly different. There were a few trees and vendor stalls set up on the one-lane road, and Peeves could smell petrol stronger than ever. He was sorely tempted to just start messing with the newspapers in the nearest booth, where a scruffy middle-aged man jabbered about some political scandal to a half-listening customer.

“Now it should just be a left,” Dandrane mumbled, turning her head in all directions; she seemed to be admiring the sights like he was, watching an occasional car go past as well as looking up at the buildings.

Peeves, unable to control himself any longer, sunk lower to the ground so he could trip some of the people passing by. He giggled as one person fell flat to their knees and another spilled what smelled like very sweet coffee on themselves.

“Which one of these _is_ it?”

“Isn’t talking to yourself supposed to be a sign of insanity?” Peeves smirked over at her; she didn’t seem to be listening.

“It should be right around here somewhere, she said it was at the corner...”

They strode up halfway up the block together (well, more like she strode and he floated alongside her on her arm), turning their heads in different directions. Peeves purposefully slapped the hat off a passerby and Dandrane gave a long _‘oh’_ as she stopped them in front of the steps to the large, intricately-detailed building next to them. It was at least eight stories high and had nearly two-hundred windows that glistened in the morning sun, most of which had stone or iron balconies in front of them that wrapped around the building like a giant walkway. Every other building on the street paled in comparison to the amount of detail and blend of architecture.

“Geez, this can’t be cheap….” Dandrane commented aloud as she turned them up the little steps. She was right – the giant hotel looked just as ritzy on the inside as the outside. Polished floors gleamed up at them and marble-patterned walls stood tall over the heads of the few people walking across the front hall. A pair of columns led the way to the grand staircase, which looked like it was right out of a story where a main character would make their dramatic entrance by slowly descending them. Peeves eyes were immediately drawn to the crystal chandelier – it was much more modern than the ones at Hogwarts, with its pointed electric bulbs that shone brilliantly in place of candles and the swooping curtain of crystal beads that disguised the chain holding it to the ceiling.

Peeves practically ached to loosen the screws and hear the screams of patrons as it smashed magnificently to the floor. Maybe he’d pop all the bulbs first, just to make it more theatrical, and then, while they were gazing up in curiosity he’d let it drop inches from someone’s head…

Dandrane steered them to the dining room with a crooked smile. “Not now.”

“But Phlegmy, it’s practically _begging_ for it…” The poltergeist cast a hungry look at the chandelier, which was growing smaller by second.

“Later.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouted as they turned into a massive dining room. It was crowded with what looked like fifty tables, at least half of which were filled. There were so many glasses to break, so many plates to drop, so many people to piss off - Peeves didn’t know where to look _first_.

Dandrane dragged him to the far back, where a plump young woman in yellow with dark brown skin and incredibly curly black hair was looking out the window. A menu lay forgotten in front of her on the table next to a glass of water with a clear print of glossy pink.

“Hey there, stranger, long time no see!” Dandrane beamed down as the other woman turned her head towards her, her dark eyes lighting up in instant recognition. It was as if Peeves hadn’t needed to talk to Dandrane at all that morning; she sounded just like her usual self, her voice pleasant and somewhat mischievous.

“Girl, where’ve you been? I’ve been waiting for ten minutes, you might as well’ve cancelled on me!” The young woman grinned up at the pink-haired witch with an accent somewhat like Dandrane’s – another American, no doubt. “And, uh, who’s your _friend_ there?” She added the last part quietly, giving a subtle glance at Peeves.

Dandrane sat down, letting Peeves’ arm drop before patting the edge of the table over the next seat. “You wanna sit?” She asked in the sort of low voice that normally would’ve made him shudder if her companion weren’t watching him. “I’ll let you play after I introduce you.”

“Hmm, _fine_. But I’m giving _you_ ten minutes to entertain me,” he smirked pointedly at the woman across the table.

“Long story short-” Dandrane ducked her hand under the table to get her wand from her coat sleeve, “this is Peeves the Poltergeist.” Not a moment later, Peeves felt a little wave of magic go over him. _A muffling charm, maybe?_ “There, that should take care of eavesdroppers for the moment. So! Florette, this is Peeves. Peeves,” she turned to him a little, side-eying him, “this is Florette Jones, the friend I told you about earlier. We went to Bayard together, and now she’s a junior assistant at the Magical Congress’ Official Research Division on the west coast.”

“You brought a _real_ poltergeist with you?” Florette cast a doubtful look across the table. “Where did you even find him?”

“ _Find_ _me?_ Now _that’s_ a laugh,” Peeves said with a grin. “ _I_ found _her_.”

Dandrane cut in before the black witch could reply:  “He’s _Hogwart’s_ poltergeist, Flo.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Florette stretched out the word, staring at Peeves in a bit more fascination, “so _you’re_ the guy I’m getting samples from. I didn’t think you guys had physical forms; I was really confused when Dandrane was talking about it in her letter. I mean,  Hogwarts:  A History _mentioned_ a poltergeist, but Bathilda didn’t give any details about you.”

A hundred year old memory, almost forgotten, surfaced in Peeves’ mind, to which he couldn’t help but giggle. Bathilda Bagshot, a stout stubborn witch that had graduated only a few years prior chasing him down the hall with parchment and a quill, shouting about how long he’d been there. Peeves giggles turned into a full-blown cackle at the recollection of her face screwing up in frustration as he taunted her with the answer of ‘longer than you’.

“It _wouldn’t_ ,” he laughed, “she never _could_ get an answer out of me!” Peeves couldn’t help but leer over at the professor next to him. “Unlike _you_. Huge difference between her and you, Phlegmy, is that _she_ didn’t know how to ask politely.”

“Well what do you know, manners _do_ get you everywhere,” Dandrane gave a little grin, but she didn’t look at him.

“Couldn’t keep that up for _Pimply_ though, could you?” Peeves teased with a bit of pride in his voice, “I heard you asked about her toilet.”

“I got over-excited. And I can’t stand the smell of public bathrooms, it always throws me off my game,” the professor explained with a look of mild disgust. “Dirty _or_ clean…”

Florette passed over a menu and rested both arms on the table. “I still don’t know how you can stand formaldehyde, but you’ll turn green at _bleach_ ,” she commented with a playful sneer.

“Oh come on, I _grew up_ around formaldehyde, you know that. Bleach just _stinks_ ,” Dandrane wrinkled her nose as if she could smell it coming off the open menu in front of her, but it only lasted a few seconds before she changed the subject:  “So, Peeves, do you want anything? As long as you actually eat it, I’ll buy.”

The offer was sort of tempting. Peeves wasn’t interested in mindless chatter, but he wanted to savor Dandrane being normal-ish again as much as possible, even if he wasn’t sure if she was putting on a front for her friend or being genuine. But despite that, he wanted to see how many people he could annoy here, too, since there was a _room_ full of fresh victims - and who knew, maybe some would give off magic like that kid in the Underground did. “I’ll just steal some of yours when I think you’re not looking. I’m going to go have some _fun_ ,” he said, eyeing the group of tables in front of him.

“Just don’t leave the room. No touching or hurting muggles, either,” she paused, her eyes flashing at him for a moment, as if daring him to even think about it, “and please, try not make it _too_ obvious there’s a poltergeist here.”

“And here I was, ready to throw plates,” Peeves crossed his arms in a defiant pout. “Really limiting me here, Phlegmy.”

“I just said don’t make it _obvious_. You can do things when you’re sure people aren’t _looking_ ,” the pink-haired witch replied casually, running her eyes down the menu with a little smirk.

With that, Peeves zoomed to the nearest empty table and began unscrewing the tops off the salt and pepper shakers.

Of course, as soon as he left, the conversation’s atmosphere changed.  

“He calls you _Flemmy_?” Florette snorted, her dark eyes sparkling.

“He’s in the habit of calling people by their last names like everyone else around here.”

“So what, he just makes it a little nickname for _you?_ ”

Dandrane shrugged, not wanting to reveal everything to someone she knew would ask a million questions. It was always best to change the subject around her. “Oh, I’ve got the samples in my bag; do you want it now or later? I don’t know if time will be an issue in preservation or not.”

“I’ll take it later, as long as they’re not in extreme temperatures they should be fine. Are you ever gonna take those off?” She gestured to the sunglasses still perched on the professor’s nose. “You’ve been sitting here for five minutes now.”

Dandrane grumbled, but slid her little glasses off and folded them to place neatly on the table anyway. “I just like wearing them.”

“So tell me – did you have a field day when you met the short-stack or what? I mean, you’ve been waiting what, fourteen, fifteen years to catch a real one?”

“Shut it, _Flo_ ,” Dandrane snapped somewhat icily, already feeling embarrassment creep over her face at the half-buried memory of her childhood ambitions. “It’s not like that. Where’s Kay, she’s usually here to keep your foot out of your mouth…”

The black witch fiddled with her water glass, leaning it to the side and back again to move the ice cubes around. “My darling’s sleeping off a hangover.”

“What, you two partied last night? I thought you grew out of that _years_ ago.”

“I’d say it was more of a celebration that got out of hand,” Florette smiled knowingly, “I’ve been meaning to tell you-”

A waiter dressed in a starched-white shirt and long blue tie appeared at their table; he looked just as prim and proper as Dandrane figured people at such a ritzy hotel would, even if he looked a little young. “Are you ladies ready to order?”

“A mimosa, please,” Dandrane shoved her gloves in her jacket pockets, wishing she had enough time to order a pitcher rather than a glass. “And French toast with a side of bacon and two eggs over-easy.”

“Traditional breakfast for me, thanks. And a pot of English Breakfast,” the young woman added, flashing a quick polite smile at the waiter before turning back to the pink-haired witch. “Starting a little _early_ , aren’t you?”

“It’s never too early when you feel like you need it,” Dandrane replied as the waiter stepped away. “So, you were saying?”

Florette leaned over the table, propped up on one elbow as she stared her old friend down with a curious sort of concern.  “ _Need_ it, huh? What’s eatin’ you?”

“Nothing, I didn’t mean it like that.”

The black witch gave her a flat, knowing look. “Danny, I _know_ you. You haven’t ‘needed’ to drink anything since you’re last breakup. Craig didn’t ask to get back together with you, did he? Kay and I can go kick his ass for you if you want.”

“No, we haven’t spoken since he stomped out of my apartment. It’s more complicated than that, I’d rather not talk about it.” _Especially since part of the reason is floating around across the room._

“Then what is it? I thought you were happy at Hogwarts - at least your letter last _month_ said so. Did something happen?”

“It’s not worth fussing over, Flo.” _Pushy, as always._ “Anyway, you were saying you and Kay had something to celebrate?”

“Don’t change the subject on me, that was _obviously_ code for ‘yes but I won’t tell you what’.”

Dandrane sighed through her nostrils. Florette could be stubborn sometimes, but at least her heart was in the right place. Peeves _was_ far enough away, he wouldn’t overhear from this distance even if he _could_ hear through their little barrier. Maybe she… No, Florette was _never_ good with complicated relationships, let alone with men. Kay understood both topics far better.

The waiter reappeared, carefully putting down a tea tray and sliding the mimosa towards her as Dandrane weighed her options:  she could either try to explain the complicated emotions that had been brewing in her head since October and hope that Florette could comprehend what she was trying to say and _pray_ that Peeves wouldn’t interrupt them, or she could lie her way out of this.

The professor took a sip of her cocktail, appreciating the taste of champagne and orange juice mixed together as the drink made her tongue feel a little smoother. “I guess I just miss home more than I thought, you know?” She swirled her drink slightly, secretly glad the tired, melancholy mask she donned right now wasn’t entirely fake. “There’s not even a phone in the neighboring village. I got more excited than normal tourist would about seeing one of those famous red phone boxes out in front of the hotel,” she said, casting a sheepish grin over the table. “More than once I’ve had the urge to call my dad and ask him how he copes with writing slumps, since I can’t just apparate over there anymore.” A half-truth; she had wanted to talk to her father, sure, but it was more to do with catching up and bouncing around ideas and theories. It was a little hard to get writer’s block when her current muse was literally floating around the same castle as she was, especially when he decided to pay her a visit. And she was pretty sure her father would understand her other problems, too…

“ _Ah_ ,” Florette nodded, stirring her cup of tea absentmindedly with the tiny spoon they provided. “That’s not _that_ complicated. Or did you just not want to admit that your historical dream vacation wasn’t all it was cracked up to be?”

“Hit the nail right on the head, why don’t you. I know it’s petty.”

“It’s understandable. I’d go nuts not being able to catch the new episodes of Charmed or Buffy every week without having to catch the bus every single time,” Florette took a sip from her cup before adding in a packet of sugar substitute. “You know the one they have here is a double-decker? It’s kinda awesome, about the only modern thing they’ve got converted over here, and the seats are _super_ cushy. Don’t go at night, though, the beds aren’t locked to the floor.”

Dandrane couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her. “Really? They don’t even try to keep them from sliding around?”

“No! I don’t know how the other two passengers could sleep when their beds kept crashing into one another! Kay clung to me the whole way, I actually managed to get the thing steady with a sticking charm when the ticket-taker wasn’t looking, but it took for- _ever_.”

It was much better to sit there and share their experiences of England’s wizard and muggle culture. Florette had relayed an interesting story regarding Stonehenge (apparently, there was a small public magic school in the village nearby that was off-limits to muggles) and was starting to go on a rant about the mummies at the British Museum when their food arrived. As soon as the first bite of French toast reached Dandrane’s mouth, a scream perforated the air.

A woman, middle-aged perhaps, had shot up from her table, the lap of her undoubtedly-expensive dress soaked with what looked to be coffee. Peeves floated away from the table with a very smug grin tossed in the muggle’s direction. 

Florette was now watching Peeves with a somewhat wary eye as he began to hover near the door to the kitchen. “So how _did_ you convince a poltergeist to come with you, anyway?”

“Nothing special,” Dandrane shoved the forkful of food in her mouth to one side but continued to talk anyway. “He jus’ caugh’ me ‘eaving.”

“ _Caught_ you?” The witch raised a perfectly-plucked brow. “I thought you said you were clear to leave for today.”

Dandrane cut an egg in half with her fork and began to move it around the plate to get as much yolk as possible. “Technically I am. I just lied my way out of a Quidditch match and Peeves happened to find me on my way out.” _And basically threatened to tattle._

“You never change,” the witch rolled her eyes with a somewhat affectionate smile. “So does he do things like this a lot?”

“It’s in his nature. I rather like it, it’s a nice change of pace. Makes life a little more exciting, you know?”

“I dunno, I’d get kinda annoyed after a while,” Florette’s dark eyes flicked back to Peeves from across the room, and Dandrane followed her gaze as she ate – the poltergeist was leaning his back against the kitchen door with his hand phased through the handle. The witches could see the door wiggle slightly as someone tried to push it open from the other side. “Guess you still haven’t grown out of that warped sense of humor, either, huh?”

“You said it yourself, I haven’t changed. You want to try some of this? It’s not maple syrup, but it _is_ a goldmine of sugar.”

“Nah, I’m trying not to eat too much sweet stuff, I’ve got to fit into my dress.”

“Dreff?” Dandrane said with her mouth full of syrup-covered toast. “For wha’?”

A sneaky grin spread slowly over her friend’s face. “My wedding.”

“You’ ge’ing _marri’d?_ ” Dandrane heard her fork clatter against her plate as she tried to swallow as fast as possible without choking. “ _When?_ ”

“Sometime next year,” Florette’s eyes danced as she spooned beans onto a piece of toast. “I just proposed yesterday, you know.”

“But how? I mean, you _know_ Oregon won’t recognize your marriage-”

“Kay and I are moving to Ontario next year,” Florette gushed with excitement, “so my commute will only be a little longer. We agreed that a purely magical wedding would be out, since both of our families are full of muggles, and we knew that only the Congress would recognize it otherwise, so it’s an ordinary muggle wedding for us. We might have a magical one a little later, though, just for friends.”

Dandrane stared in shock. This was what, the fifth or sixth wedding she’d attend in the past three years? Of course, Kay and Florette had known each other for several years now, and when compared to the others they had a lot more time between meeting and getting engaged… Still, it nagged at her. “At this rate, I’ll be the only single one left out of our old group of friends.”

“So? You’re dad wasn’t married until he was in his forties, and I still stand by what I said in May, Julie and Jack-a-douche won’t last a _year_ before they break up. Besides, wasn’t it _you_ who told me _years_ ago that a relationship wasn’t the end-goal of life anyway?”

“Yeah, true…” Dandrane took a minute to eat a slice of bacon, dipping it in the golden syrup as she tried to get her brain to stop feeling fuzzy. _Though, I think I said that primarily to help you stop crying._ “I’m happy for you, really – I mean, I can’t _wait_ to see you try to walk in heels again,” she chuckled genuinely, “but this is just such a surprise! It’s a lot to take in.”

“Well don’t think about it _too_ hard, you’re not the one planning the wedding!” Florette laughed.

“In that case,” Dandrane raised her glass in a toast as she put on a happier face, “a practice toast! To planning the future!”

They gently clinked cups just as two chefs and a waiter crashed through the now-open kitchen door, landing in a pile with humiliated befuddlement written all over their faces, leaving Peeves to laugh heartily and Dandrane’s smile to become more genuine.

No sooner had the pink-haired witch put another piece of syrup-covered eggy toast on her fork then Peeves had wandered back over to their table, looking rather pleased with himself. He deigned to hover at the end of their table and admire his handiwork from afar – the chefs had pulled the waiter (which looked to be the same man who had waited on their table) to a far empty corner and looked to be in deep discussion, all their faces in varying shades of red.

Florette had turned the conversation to potential wedding locations, but Dandrane was only half listening. It was hard to concentrate when Peeves was literally a foot above their table’s edge. Dandrane kept looking at him out of the corner of her eye. The expression on his face was new; it wasn’t smug, exactly, nor joyful.

He looked rather _content_.

It wasn’t so much _that_ knowledge that made Dandrane force herself to keep a straight face and try her best to pay attention to the witch across the table. It was because she couldn’t help but want to look at him, especially with such an incredibly _rare_ expression. Every time they were together, she found herself eventually drawn into his presence, wanting to watch him as he spoke every word or performed even the smallest actions. Even on Tuesday, where she told herself repeatedly to _focus focus focus_ only on the tasks at hand while examining him, she found herself catching a glance or two or four or _ten,_ even though she had told herself a hundred times that doing so would only make her slip further down the hole she was digging. Today had been somewhat of a relief, _having_ to focus entirely on the muggle world in front of her, making sure she knew where she was going and watching to see if anyone else took notice of him, even though he was undoubtedly fascinated by everything and likely looking at everything within range of her.

Though it was only her third time in London, she was used to seeing muggle things and didn’t find them as intriguing; when they were reading together he had asked some of the same questions that kids from wizarding families asked their muggleborn peers. She found it so amusing that he was interested in the most common muggle inventions when it was _Peeves_ that was truly fascinating. He was chaos wrapped in a mockery of human skin, the very _epitome_ of the word ‘mischievous’, yet he held answers to the questions that had caused her to lay awake at three in the morning for years.

And more than likely, no matter _what_ she did, she’d never know half of them. That was the real joke.

“Hey, Phlegmy,” his voice called from her left, sounding a little excited, “can I go drop the chandelier now?”

Dandrane turned to him slightly; it looked like he had cut off Florette mid-sentence, because she looked rather peeved herself. Sure enough, he looked to be the very image of a rascal ready to cash in a favor.

There was no need to debate on whether or not she should let him – she knew the second she saw the magnificent decoration in the front hall that he would want to smash it, and she had no inclination to actually stop it. “Sure,” she said after a brief pause, wanting to see if he’d get a little anxious over her decision (he didn’t). “Just make _sure_ no one is underneath or around it when it drops. I don’t want to have to clean up after that kind of mess.”

Peeves sped off in mid-air, giggling maniacally with anticipation, and Florette gave a frustrated sigh. “You shouldn’t encourage him with jokes like that.”

Dandrane was only half-joking. She didn’t know what she’d do if he got an innocent muggle killed. Even with a water-based ward, it would be rather difficult to trap him, and having to do so would be a bit like stabbing herself in the chest. Thankfully, Peeves didn’t seemed to be the sort of spirit inclined to commit _murder_. Florette didn’t know that, though – so making jokes like that was just another part of the fun.

As expected, it was much easier to relax and pay attention to Florette again (who was now recounting a story where she got in a fight with her coworker over a microscope and had to duel him over whose project was more important, genomes or bacteria) and was actually becoming very invested in the story when the tell-tale crash of what sounded like a hundred wine glasses smashing at once resonated off the walls and into the dining room. It was shortly followed by several exclamations and a scream, then a rush of a few people leaving their tables to see what all the fuss was about.

Dandrane couldn’t help but chuckle as the flustered assistant manager rushed in, herding people back to their seats as he declared that “it’s nothing to be alarmed about, just an accident, really,” while Peeves hysterical laughter echoed into the hall for only the pair of witches to hear.

*~*~*~*~*

Peeves lay on the middle of the staircase, his arms outstretched and his eyes feeling slightly watery. These muggles were simply hilarious! He hadn’t seen so many adults flinch and scatter away from a falling object in _years!_ He thought the patron’s scream was going to be the icing on the cake, and then he saw the look of horror on the manager’s face as he all but sprinted out with the pale desk clerk who had gone to fetch him. Oh _man_. _That_ was what made it. Amidst his bout of wild laughter at the humor of it all, he had to force himself to take a breather and concentrate on the manager’s face so he could permanently ingrain that expression in his memory. There was no _way_ he was going to forget that.

He hadn’t laughed that hard and that long at a prank for quite a while, either. Ten minutes after the crash, he still couldn’t help but let out an occasional giggle as the hotel’s patrons and staff hurried about the front with frustration, anxiety, fear, and confusion oozing out into the air as they tried to clean up the shards of glass. Peeves soaked it all up like a very greedy sponge, half-wondering why a crowd of muggles could give off as much emotional energy as a magical teen who had mistakenly bumped into him.

The poltergeist crossed his legs and moved his arms behind is head, rhythmically tapping one foot in the air as he regarded the broken chandelier chain that dangled from the ceiling with nothing short of prideful hilarity. He figured he’d take the time to admire his work and absorb the newer drops of ‘magic’ of the muggles around him while he waited for Dandrane to finish up her talk with her little gal-pal at the same time.

“You shouldn’t be lying there, you know. Someone’s going to step on you,” a voice to his right whispered.

Peeves snapped his attention to the Chinese woman peering down at him, her hand gripping the railing. She must have been about the same age as Dandrane, but wasn’t as nearly as _tall_ ; almost a whole foot shorter, really, but it seemed like she towered over him nonetheless. Probably because he could see the hard, defined muscles of her arms under her long-sleeved shirt. She could be a professional chaser, if it wasn’t for the ‘complete lack of magic’ thing she had going on.

“Pardon me,” she muttered to him as she continued her way down the grand staircase. The poltergeist watched her carefully step around the shattered glass and head towards the front desk without any more indication she had seen him.

 _Now_ Peeves was curious. This was the second time a muggle had seen him, and the fourth instance where muggles had proved to be everything contrary to what he had previously known for a thousand years. He could barely remember occasions where muggle parents would visit their kids in the first couple hundred years of Hogwarts, but he _did_ recall that they didn’t see or hear him.

What was it Dandrane had said so long ago? That she wanted to study him because the world didn’t know much about spirits? He thought back to when he rifled through Dandrane’s miscellaneous notes, scribbled on loose papers and inside of makeshift journals that had been barely organized in her office drawers. Half of the things she wrote down related to him or the school’s ghosts, but everything else were bizarre stream-of-conscious details on strange muggle phenomena. He had dismissed her whack-job theories about muggle’s potential ‘psychic power’ as unimportant at the time, but now he almost wanted to go back and actually _read_ them. Maybe it wasn’t just a trivial quirky theory after all…

Where did psychic powers come into play if she was just researching ghosts and poltergeists at Hogwarts? Could ghosts possibly be connected to muggles’ supposed subconscious powers? Or was he putting a square peg in a round hole and she was just researching two different subjects at the same time?

“Honey, are you okay?” Florette’s concerned voice drifted in from the far hall, “I thought you were going to sleep, you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine, sweetie, I just came down to talk to whoever was supposed to deliver my pancakes. It’s been half an hour.” _Isn’t that the Chinese gal?_

Peeves sat up and moved to stare over the railing. Sure enough, Miss Jones and the muscular Chinese woman from earlier were talking just as Dandrane was emerging from the dining room, her sunglasses back on her face.

“Kay!” Dandrane’s face lit up and grabbed both women in what looked to be a crushing hug. Florette was almost a whole foot shorter than Dandrane, making the hug look rather awkward, but all three women pulled away with a funny sort of smile. “Congratulations, you little rapscallions!”

What were the _odds?_   “Oh come _on_ , you _know_ that one?!” He pointed to the Chinese muggle Dandrane had just embraced.

Kay evidently pretended not to hear - she just turned a little to look at her partner. “You told her already?”

“Eh, I figured I might as well tell her in person. She’d know next week anyway,” Florette shrugged with a smile, apparently also ignoring him.

Dandrane was staring at him as he leaned exasperated over the railing. “Hey, Kay, turn around for a second,” she pointed at him with a joking sort of smile.

Kay’s shoulder’s tensed, but otherwise she remained still. “He’s behind me, isn’t he?” She whispered to the pink-haired witch. “He was on the stairs earlier…”

“Oh, so you _can_ see him,” Dandrane replied in a low voice, both eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Does he know you?”

Dandrane opened her mouth to reply, but Florette cut in with an annoyed look at the poltergeist. “She _brought_ him here, dear.”

The professor decided to turn her attention to the broken chandelier, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose (was it to avoid their gaze?) and seemed to look between the mess of glass on the floor and the dangling chain on the ceiling.

“He’s a ghost right?” Kay muttered uncertainly.

“Something like that,” Florette said as she brushed away a stray lock of hair from her girlfriend’s face. “Don’t worry about it, okay, sweetheart?”

Dandrane gave a low whistle. “Wow, what a mess! I’m impressed it broke so spectacularly.”

Peeves felt his usual grin return a bit, but despite the compliment his snarkiness lacked its usual flare. “Is that my cue to bow to the audience?”

The professor quirked a little grin in return, but Kay turned her head sharp enough to leave her ponytail swinging, and must’ve been giving a threatening look, because the grin slipped off the witch’s face not a second later. “You’re _not_ bringing him to the wedding.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dandrane waved with the sort of phony smile that told Peeves she actually would.

“I _mean_ it, Dandrane. I’ll kick you out _so_ _fast_ -”

“I know, I know. I don’t doubt our regional kickboxing champ would sooner throw me in the ring with her, anyway.”

Peeves busied himself with rearranging the welcome desk’s office supplies (all while the employee’s back was turned) as Dandrane said her goodbyes and was given a promise of a postcard that week and a letter next month. As her friends made their way back towards the dining room, slipping their hands into each other’s like it was a second nature, Dandrane motioned with a small jerk of her head for Peeves to follow her.

He expected them to head out the door, but instead she walked past it and turned towards the other side of the staircase and straight down the hall to a room with a door of foggy glass marked ‘TELEPHONE’. It was barely bigger than a broom cupboard, but it was fairly well lit. She closed the door behind them with a faint click and gave a cross between a sigh and a frustrated groan.

“ _Finally_.” Dandrane crossed her arms and leaned against the corner opposite the strange machine in the wall that Peeves figured must be the ‘phone’. She seemed worn out, like she finished running a marathon. “So, how many _more_ muggles have noticed you today?”

“Just ‘Kay’ and the kid from the train.”

“That’s what I thought…” The witch trailed off with a little ‘hmm’. “I’m surprised _Kay_ could see you, actually, she never told me if she could see ghosts. She never saw the same ones I did when we were kids, anyway.”

“When you were _kids?_ But isn’t she’s a _muggle?_ ”

She stared at him blankly for a moment. “You, uh…never heard of a magic kid having non-magic friends before starting school?”

“Only if they were muggleborn. You’re dad’s a wizard, though, right?” It was much more of a statement than a question. “You’ve got his books on the shelf in your office.”

Dandrane’s eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. “I’m surprised you noticed.”

“ _Ouch_ , Phlegmy, that hit me right _here_ ,” he said with a dramatic jab of his fist to his chest before returning to his usual snark. “What, you _really_ think I don’t pay attention to the things I mess with?”

“Sorry. I just didn’t have you pegged as someone who remembered little details like that. I was surprised you remembered Bagshot earlier, too.”

“Hard to forget someone who tried to follow me around to get answers and then got angry when I wouldn’t give ‘em up.”

Dandrane chuckled. “Guess she and I have more in common than I thought.”

“Nah,” he retorted casually, “I was serious before, you’re _much_ more polite. Hotter, too.”

 _Shit_. He hadn’t meant that to slip out. He hoped he was keeping his face straight. _Please don’t take it seriously, please don’t take it seriously-_

“Thanks.” It was said shortly, with no element of surprise at all, but at least it didn’t sound bitter or distasteful. He expected – or rather, hoped for – a sarcastically flirtatious response instead, as that would fit more with what she was usually like. Was she _really_ keeping up appearances out there that whole time? _How did she_ do _that?_ “You sure you didn’t notice anybody else looking at you? I’ve tried to keep my eyes open, but I couldn’t do too much at breakfast.”

Peeves didn’t like the abrupt change in conversation, but it was far better than an awkward silence. “Well, uh, no. They didn’t make it obvious, anyway.”

“Hmm.” The witch stared at the floor, seeming to think.

“Phlegmy, why could _those two_ see me?”

“I don’t know.”

That was definitely not the answer he wanted. He wanted _something_ , even if it sounded completely crazy. “You mean you have journals written about ‘human psychic’ shit and you don’t have an answer out of it?” Peeves asked with a sneer as he folded his arms impatiently.

“Exactly,” Dandrane mumbled, still looking at the tiles on the floor. “Muggles usually don’t notice magical beings. There’s always been exceptions, like the ancient giant kelpie in Loch Ness and the odd chupacabra, but there’s never been a record of a muggle seeing a wizard’s ghost before. Some can see other kinds, like the orbs and shadow people…” He’d never heard of _either_ of those. Were the orbs like those things that funny novel described to be floating over the cemetery? “Peeves,” she said calmly, looking straight at him through her little dark glasses, “all I know is that you’re not a wizard ghost, and you’re not a muggle ghost. I’ve got a bit of an idea of what you _could_ be, but I need an honest answer first:  how did you know Kay was a muggle?”

Peeves blinked. “Muggles don’t have auras. Even _squibs_ have those,” he answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“…like the stuff Seers talk about?”

The poltergeist felt even more confused. “Yeah…? You know, like when you’re standing next to another witch and they have this vaguely magic feeling about them? You can usually tell what mood they’re in…?”

“…dude, what you’re describing sounds sort of like amateur _legilimency_.” She sounded impressed, but for once he didn’t see any reason to be. “I mean, I can’t sense things like _that_ ,” she tapped her chin with a finger, looking back down at the floor. “Did you… You essentially eat magic, right?”

“ _Ooh_ , you figured that out?” Peeves wasn’t surprised, he knew she would eventually.

“Did the muggles give any to you?”

It was a strange way to phrase it, he thought. “If by ‘give to me’ you mean ‘leaked like a rung towel’, then yes.”

“Which one?”

“All of them,” he said, watching her finger glide over her bottom lip and waiting to see when she’d look at him. “Haven’t teased one today that hasn’t given up at least a little.”

“Right,” she said with definite finality and stood up straight again, holding her gloved hand out towards him. “Let’s go home.”

Peeves took it, expecting her to lead him back out into London, but with a faint ‘pop’ the phone-closet vanished and was replaced by an open toilet stall lit by a couple of humming long lightbulbs in the ceiling. Dandrane’s nose wrinkled in disgust a second later, likely because of the intense smell of cleanser that seemed to cover every square inch of the white tiles. Peeves heard someone singing along with an acoustic guitar, but even though it seemed to come through the ceiling it was still muffled by the sounds of a crowd on the other side of the door.

The witch let go of the breath she had been holding when she led them out into the lively bar area of the Dragon’s Hoard, keeping him at her side with one hand and holding onto her purse with the other, despite it being slung over her shoulder. The once-empty pub now had almost every table filled with people, all of whom were muggles talking amongst each other loudly. If there was music playing in here, too, it was completely drowned out.

“Why did we apparate back?” Peeves asked, disappointed that they wouldn’t be riding the train again. It had been really fun, messing with people’s stuff on there and making the lights flicker…

“I wanted to get back as soon as possible,” she whispered, her eyes shifting around to make sure no one was paying attention. “Plus, this Tupperware container in my jacket isn’t what’d you call _comfortable_.”

“Isn’t that what a purse is for?” He smirked as they made their way up the quiet staircase, still holding her hand; they passed by a young woman who pressed herself against the wall and held up the tray full of dirty dishes high above their heads to let them pass through.

Dandrane ignored the waitress, ducking under the tray without a word, and gave a little huff a couple of steps later. “But then my french toast won’t stay as _warm_. I hate putting heated stuff in my purse, it makes everything smell weird. Of course, this jacket’s probably not going to fare any better…”

The top of the stairs was quieter; Peeves guessed there was a muffling charm of some sort to help filter out the noise from below, because he could hear a conversation from one of the other ‘private’ dining rooms:  “No, _no_ , my boy, it’s supposed to be made with devil’s foot, not wormwood…”  

The room with the fireplace was still empty, but it looked like someone had been in there. The table had great globs of gravy and syrup stuck to it, and there was a large purple stain on one of the seats. The only way to make it worse was to topple the chairs and turn the table on its side. Peeves would’ve done so if Dandrane wasn’t still holding onto him.

“I need to go to the library for a while when we get back. If you want, you can go through my notes; I’m sure you know where they are,” she said with a little smirk in his direction, grabbing a pinch of Floo powder from the pot on the mantle. “Don’t hold back on your opinion of them, either.”

“Didn’t plan on it.”

Peeves shuffled himself to stand in the fireplace in front of Dandrane again, letting go of her hand only to find it pressing lightly into his shoulder-blade seconds later. His arms curled around her middle again, though this time it was choice rather than instinct or subconscious thought that lead the action. For a brief moment he was almost lost in the warmth that flooded every spot their bodies touched together, but he ruined it when he started sniggering into her jacket - it really _was_ starting to smell like syrupy leather. “Try not to cling so hard this time, please,” she said with a note of amusement. “I’m not going to let you slip away in there.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, not quite lying. He really liked being able to hold onto her like this. Sitting in her lap was exciting, too, but he doubted she’d ever let him lie on top of her. This might be the closest he’d ever get. “Did it hurt?”

“I think I’m going to have some finger-shaped bruises on my back after today.”

“…sorry.” His response was more genuine this time, but he couldn’t help but like the idea a little. Maybe just not like _this_.

“Ready?”

He shut his eyes and braced himself this time, focusing on the feel of the smooth material beneath his hands and the sweet smell invading his nostrils rather than what he knew was coming. It was very strange to be experiencing so many different emotions all at the same time:  comfort, arousal, dread, guilt… “Yeah.”

“HOGWARTS’ DEFENSE OFFICE!” She shouted, and once again they were engulfed in heatless fire, whisking them back home in a flurry of green. Peeves tried not to cling to her, but this time it really felt like pieces of him were going to drift away into the void they travelled through, whether or not she was holding onto him… It was like every bit of the newly acquired magic in his body wanted to separate from him and strained against his flesh in an effort to get away.

Dandrane had to shove her foot out of the fireplace in order to stop them from toppling out, but he thought it was a fruitless gesture – he wouldn’t have let them fall over, even if his head _was_ currently reeling.

“You doing okay?” She asked, sliding her hand from the middle of his upper back to his left shoulder. Peeves didn’t know how, but these small gestures managed to wick away some of his discomfort.

“Not really,” he admitted, sliding away from her but keeping both hands on her hips. He felt like if he didn’t hold on, he’d be even dizzier.

He felt her bare knuckles press lightly against his forehead, warming his face almost instantly and bringing a sort of tingly feeling along with it. “Hmm, I can’t tell if you’re hot or not…”

“I dunno, I’d say I’m a solid ten.”

His half-hearted joke got a light laugh out of her, at any rate. “At least you’re _humor_ is okay. Seriously, though, what hurts? Head, stomach, legs…?”

“Head.”

“You wanna sit down?”

“No,” he decided, not wanting to move for a variety of reasons. The spirit leaned against her once more, not caring if she stiffened or stood stock still. She did neither, opting to just hold him very lightly against her. “I just want to stay like this for a bit.”

She said nothing, but as she didn’t try to shove him away or make any other indication she was uncomfortable, he took it as ‘okay’. He closed his eyes and listened to her breathe against him. He didn’t understand how she could be so calm, even in awkward moments like these. Then again, maybe it was just awkward for _him_. Being this close to another person was still new to him, after all…

“What happened in there?”

“I dunno,” Peeves replied dully, “it wasn’t as bad the first time.”

“…that’s what she said.”

It was a stupid, simple, _obvious_ joke, but he couldn’t help but laugh anyway.

“Feeling any better?”

Peeves pulled away, looking at her in the shadows of the fireplace. She had ash in her hair and on her glasses, but it didn’t seem to bother her, and it didn’t bother him, either. All that mattered was that she was giving him a genuine affectionate smile, looking more like she had when they parted ways on Halloween night than she had all day long.

“Much.”

They left her office at different times:  she headed for the library’s restricted section as soon as she got the ash out of her hair, and he left not long after, an unmarked journal made up of loose papers held in one hand and one of her clicking muggle pens in another, intent on finding a private space to search through her confusing and outlandish theories for answers – until the Quidditch match was over, at least. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how you have a scene in your head that you can’t wait to write, and then when it comes time to write it you’re not sure what you even wanted to accomplish with it in the first place? Yeah, that’s like half of this chapter for me. The journey to the Hotel accomplished the exact things I wanted, but I’m not sure why I struggled so much with things AT the Hotel. I wanted to write it, but kept feeling like it was fluff and barely relating to the plot (despite the fact that the sample's drop off is important), since Dandrane refuses to talk about her problems. I tried to make it out like a character study on Dandrane’s part, getting to know her friends a little and more on how Danny handles things without giving away too much I want to keep as [temporarily] secret possible. In the end, though, my flow of writing lead me to reveal some important world-building things, too. Speaking of, since we don’t know how long muggle-repelling charms have been on Hogwarts, I’m guessing it was some time before they instituted them. I figured this off the fact that a) muggle parents, no matter the time period, would want to see their children, especially if they were in the hospital wing and b) no one knows when exactly muggle repelling charms were invented. Also, since Hogsmeade is “the oldest wizarding village in Britain” and was founded about the same time as Hogwarts, I’m guessing some half-magical families started living there with full-blood families in the beginning, to be closer to their kid’s school; after all, floo powder wasn’t invented until the 13th century and riding brooms everywhere must’ve still been a little risky.
> 
> I gotta say, I had quite a time writing Danny’s friends! I planned on having Florette being engaged to a muggle woman right off the bat, but their personalities were sort of improvised, and Kay changed names twice and went from being a full-blown lesbian [like her fiancée] to a bisexual. This is actually my first time writing a couple that are minor original characters, so I hope their affection for one another came through. Something I couldn’t squeeze in is that Kay has only known about magic for the last two years, so she’s adjusting to seeing things like Peeves; she’d seen ghosts before, but never full-bodied ones. Danny didn’t know Kay could see ghosts because they lost contact during both of their times at school and only reunited six years prior to this; Flo has known/been dating Kay for the past four years.
> 
> So...I kind of hate Rowling’s newest additions to Pottermore. You know, the ones regarding North America. There’s so, SO much wrong with it, and I am telling you here and now that the majority of it will not be cannoned into my fic. One of my biggest gripes is the idea that her magical Europe knew about North America before the muggle settlers, because not only is the idea of a person flying on their ancient broomstick over an entire fucking ocean completely preposterous, but so is the implication that magic folk didn’t have racial biases like the muggles did. Honestly, Jo, just admit that some magic folk helped ‘conquer’ the New Worlds because they love gold and riches as much as the next muggle and that not every magical person was enlightened to the fact that racism isn’t right. I’m not going to sit here and swallow the idea that magic users didn’t have a hand in slave trade and the massive genocide of various indigenous peoples when they are canonically proven to own slaves and are clearly prejudiced towards non-humans and non-magical people. I’ll probably rant about it more in the next Author’s Note, but there is one thing in the update that I DID like, and that is the name of the American’s version of the Ministry of Magic: The Magical Congress of the United States of America (aka "MCUSA"). Because of this, I went through the fic and changed the name accordingly. I will warn you, though – I have 206 words regarding how my version of the Congress works, and I plan on explaining it in the future.
> 
> Fun fact! If you look up Oyster Card prices circa 2003, the Tube’s map, and the Hotel Russell, you’ll find that I matched details up rather well! The only thing that’s completely fictional is the brunch menu! If you’re wondering why I’d go so far as to research such throwaway stuff like that for a piece of fanfiction, the answer is this: over the past couple of years, a groupe of people I admire have repeated over and over again that research is important to any story. Since these people dissect and riff on work published both by fans and publishing houses, I have taken their sage advice to heart, lest my own work someday be on the chopping block. I don’t know when the next update will be, as I haven't written one word of it yet, but my guess is at least by late May/early June. See you then, darlings! ( *¯ ³¯*)♡


	9. Mark of The Wolfe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, kids, this is what happens when I decide to stay off Tumblr for two weeks: productivity!! ＼\ ٩( ᐛ )و /／

Professor Flemming stretched her legs out on her desk, not caring if her heeled boots scuffed the already-worn wood or not. Having to spend three hours with eighteen seventh years every Wednesday afternoon was tiring – especially when she had just itched to take a break and rip open the letter an intimidating brown fish owl had delivered to her two hours into class.

Her vulture wasn’t too pleased to have to share a perch with the now dozing owl, either. Sabrina had moved to sit on top of the cabinet behind the desk for now, peering over the witch’s shoulder as she retrieved a scythe-shaped letter opener from one of her messy drawers. Dandrane flipped the letter over, just to read the front again to make sure she wasn’t imagining things: _To Professor Dandrane Flemming, Courtesy of Professor Aldin Bartlett._

Mindful not to disturb the wax seal – _you never know what you might need for court_ , as her mother would say – she slid the novelty scythe down the side of the envelope and wriggled out the thick parchment with her sharp, gold-painted fingernails.

> Dear Prof. Dandrane Flemming:
> 
> First and foremost, I must apologize for my very late response to your curious letter. I’m afraid I have been hounded by my work here and the foolish bird who delivered your letter deigned to put it in the hands of one of my more absent-minded research partners, who made the mistake of putting in my in-box pile and forgetting about it for weeks. I didn’t see it until I had decided to clean the thing out. I hope my reply doesn’t come too late.
> 
> I must say I am overjoyed you decided to use the plans I left behind! I did hope you would, I wasn’t sure what American wizarding schools are used to and figured you might need a helping hand to adapt to our system of things. I know you have been teaching for several years, but as I said, I don’t know what the education boards over the pond tend to use as a guideline.

Dandrane rolled her eyes. She hadn’t told him that she only used two weeks’ worth of his bizarre year-long outline. It’d be foolish to do so – Dandrane knew that flattery, even if it wasn’t close to being the truth, was vital to getting people to talk.

> More especially, I’m glad you found my notes on the castle to your benefit. Written histories of Hogwarts tend to leave out important footnotes like our trick steps and secret passages, but as it is a castle it comes as no surprise that it likes to keep its defenses a complete secret. I heard that Mrs. Bagshot - who wrote the best record of Hogwarts, Hogwarts: A History, which I highly recommend you read –

Okay, did he _really_ think that she hadn’t studied up on a foreign school before she applied for the job in the first place? Did he think she was stupid? More than that, did he think that anyone who had heard of Harry Potter’s escapades and the Second Wizarding War _wouldn’t_ read up on the school where Voldemort had been vanquished? Of course, she had read the book cover-to-cover when the words ‘castle poltergeist’ had popped out to her on the page when she first read it at age fifteen, but what foreigner with access to a newspaper wouldn’t have re-read it sometime in the past several years?

She blinked, as if trying to dispel her annoyance in a single motion, and continued to read.

> \- was explicitly told to leave out such details. I do wish she had talked about the castle’s departed inhabitants, though – The Bloody Baron frightened the daylights out of me as a child and Peeves is still the most annoying little bastard (pardon my language) I have ever met. I know that the book wasn’t published until 1918, but I do wish someone had added on a note about Moaning Myrtle in a revised addition or something…
> 
> If you have followed my advice regarding the second floor bathrooms, then you may not yet know of ‘Moaning Myrtle’. Quite frankly she is the most depressing ghost I have ever seen or heard before – and I have met the ghost of a poet who wrote nothing but distraught sonnets about his own death! She is a deceased former Ravenclaw who was the first and only muggleborn killed when the Chamber of Secrets was opened in 1942. (I’m sure you know of Harry Potter’s story regarding the reopening of the Chamber in 1992 and his subsequent slaying of the basilisk within it?) There’s a rumor that she was forced to stay in the school thanks to her incessant haunting of her childhood bully. I heard another ghost – I believe it was a hanged witch (I don’t recall her name, but I know she’s still got the noose around her neck) – talk about how Myrtle had disrupted a wedding and got an order from the Ministry of Magic not long after.

Well now. _That_ was new. She had scoured the library for any information on the Chamber of Secrets ever since Peeves had mentioned it back in August, even pulling back-issues of The Daily Prophet and going back to the slew of interviews given around the infamous Boy Who Lived. Ronald Weasley had given his account of entering the Chamber during the Battle of Hogwarts, mentioning how he, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger had discovered the basilisk’s whereabouts several years’ prior in what was known as “Moaning Myrtle’s toilet”. Other information on the matter surrounding the Chamber only revealed that the girl had died back in 1943, having been a victim of the basilisk’s death-stare; there had been no mention of Myrtle haunting anybody, let alone being bound to Hogwarts for it by the Ministry twenty years ago...

Dandrane highlighted the rumor with the tip of her wand, telling herself that she absolutely had to track down that witch’s ghost…or, at the very least, ask Peeves about it later.

> In any case, unless you wish to feel miserable, do not go to the second floor’s bathrooms. She does nothing but cry and moan, and she is easily offended; I once used the men’s room there and ended up lying awake that night, unable to close my eyes without hearing her horrible wails. Plus, those bathrooms are in the absolute poorest of conditions – I don’t think even the house elves like going in there. Or perhaps they were told not to bother, since hardly anyone uses them anyway.
> 
> Regarding your question about my comment on Peeves:  I dearly hope you have taken it seriously. He is a right little pain in the arse on a daily basis, and at his worst he is vengeful and should be considered dangerous. He has broken more of my instruments in four years than I have over the course of a childhood with clumsy siblings. Of course, some of it is my fault, as I have lost my temper at him, which is precisely what he wants. I made the mistake of insulting him (with words not fit for a letter, I’m afraid) and subsequently trying to hex him when I caught him horsing around in my study. In revenge, he piled all the furniture in my office against my bedroom door when I was sleeping and somehow managed to break my only foe glass, which I kept in my classroom store-cupboard with my other instruments. I had to wait until the end of term to have the glass replaced, and I can assure you it was not at a reasonable price. You, of course, have no doubt noticed the wards on the cupboard door; I put them there specifically to keep him out. Unfortunately, he found a way in and hid my foe glass somewhere; if you find it, please tell me where it is so I can put a tracking spell on it next time. I searched for that thing for eight months, I can’t fathom where he could have put it. If you need even more proof that he’s dangerous, he’s also been known to throw anything within reach, and once hurled a very heavy desk at me for telling him to get out (though I must admit, I had lost my temper and said something a little worse).
> 
> On another note, my research is going very well - thank you for asking! The counter-curses the people here use for some of these temple ruins are incredible – I hope to be able to integrate some of them into my lessons next year. As for now, I’m compiling all my research into a large paper I hope to submit for British publishing sometime next year with the help of my assistants, so I won’t be able to give you any details.
> 
> I hope that answered all your questions. Please feel free to write again if you need any more advice; I guarantee that my next reply won’t be as slow.
> 
> Best wishes,
> 
> _**Professor Aldin Casper Bartlett** _

Dandrane skimmed the letter again – there wasn’t much else that she didn’t already know. It was with a guilty pleasure that she re-read Bartlett’s rant about Peeves. She knew it wouldn’t do her any favors, but how could she help it? There was an almost perverse joy in hearing about another person’s perception of Peeves-centered events… It was also just plain _funny_.

Sabrina’s squawk drew her attention away from the parchment. Not seeing anyone in front of her, she turned to look at the bird, wondering if something was wrong.

“Damn it, you gave me away!” Peeves said with a faint pop, becoming visible next to the vulture on top of the cabinet. He gave a half-hearted glare at the bird (who was staring at him with an almost haughty look) before turning his attention to the professor, his usual grin stretching over his face. “What’cha reading, Phlegmy?”

Despite everything she had told herself over a week ago, like _focus on the tasks at hand_ or _don’t give in, you’ll only hurt yourself_ , Dandrane couldn’t ignore the fact that she was, as usual, happy to see him. True to her word, she was trying to be more of her usual-self around him – which meant she was currently balancing her genuine emotions with the age-old practice of “don’t give into temptation”. At least she could go back to smiling at him now; she really hated having to wear a serious face all the time, even if it was supposed to be for her own good.

“Bartlett finally wrote me back,” she replied, waving the letter a little at him. “He had quite a bit to say about you.”

Peeves grin faded a little as he arched a thin eyebrow. “You wrote to him about me?” he blinked, his black eyes gleaming down at her as he made himself to sit in mid-air. “How flattering.”

“He had written me a couple of notes that mentioned your name before I even met you. I just asked him to elaborate.”

The poltergeist was watching her with a gleefully curious look. “Oh? What’d he say?”

“He told me the story about the foe glass. You didn’t tell me you broke it because he had insulted you.”

His giggles echoed off the walls a little. The mail-owl burrowed its head further into its feathers; Sabrina just kept watching the spirit floating next to her with her dark, beady eyes. “I was just getting to _know you_ , Phlegmy. I wasn’t going to reveal _everything_. Who would’ve guessed you’d be decent?”

She bit back a comment about how he didn’t know how _in_ decent she could be. There was no point in leading him on with an off-color joke like that. If she didn’t know Peeves’ feelings towards her by Halloween, she _definitely_ knew it by last weekend. Knowing that was simultaneously horrible and wonderful; _taboo relationships don’t end well_ , she reminded herself for the umpteenth time.

“So what else did he say?” Peeves floated towards her, greedily eyeing the paper in her hand. “Anything else interesting?”

“Maybe,” Dandrane teased, pulling the letter away from his prying eyes, “but if you want to know you’ll have to be patient like a good boy.”

Fuck. She hadn’t meant it to come out so _suggestively_. The filter between her mouth and her brain had slipped up, probably due to being overworked for the past couple of weeks. She knew she had fucked up royally when Peeves made to sit himself on her desk’s edge with a pervy sort of leer, leaning back a little on his hands – one of which was dangerously close to her leg. She could see most of his small, lithe frame through his old and clearly tailored suit, the orange-and-green stripes of his tail-coat accentuating things further. It probably wouldn’t take much to pin him to the desk if she wanted to…

“ _Patient_ , huh?” Shit. She could see the hints of lilac bloom over his cheekbones. And if that wasn’t enough, he sounded _sultry_. “I’ve never been very good at that, _Professor_.” A pleasant heat was pooling in her abdomen at the silky way he framed the word. She knew already that she was going to be thinking of it in the late hours. She already hated herself for it.

“Well too bad,” she said snippily, lightly whacking Peeves on the nose with Bartlett’s letter. “Patience is its own reward.” The witch folded the parchment and put it in the ticket pocket of her suit-jacket. She crossed her arms loosely, staring at him squarely behind her sunglasses. “So what did you come here for, anyway?”

“What, I can’t visit your classroom now?” He smirked at her, swinging his legs a little. “I guess you don’t want _answers_ anymore, either, huh?”

Dandrane was trying her best to keep her eyes on his face, catching herself before she they trailed down too far. She was feeling more irritated with herself than before. Maybe a little at him, too, since he was still parading around in her violet tie like he owned it. “Depends on the answer.”

“I dunno,” the spirit teased, eyeing the leg near his hand. “What am I going to get in return?” He turned his half-lidded gaze back towards her.

She didn’t like him playing coy like this. It just made her want to flirt back. It made her want to catch his bottom lip between her teeth. It made her want to trail her hands over his thighs and slip her fingers into dangerous places. It made her want to see him splayed over her desk, utterly vulnerable and open to what they undoubtedly _both_ wanted… And it was times like this Dandrane was very, _very_ glad she made a habit of wearing dark lenses. “I’ll let you read the whole letter.”

He tutted at her, starting to play with the laces on one of her boots. She watched his fingers move over the thick plaid strings, gently tugging them like he was going to very slowly untie them. “Not good enough,” he grinned, dangling a threatening silence in the air. She couldn’t risk asking him what he wanted; more than likely, it’d be something she was all too tempted to do. “ _I_ know,” he purred, his eyes brightening a little, “how about you tell me about that scar on your back?”

 _Fucking cock-tease._ “…my scar, huh?”

“Yeah, you _said_ it was a long story. I’ve got time.”

Danny moved her hands to the armrests, feeling both annoyed and relieved at his choice. She began to wonder why he was thinking of that particular instance, but she shushed the perverted half-formed thoughts that bubbled up to the surface. She had to concentrate now. _It’s nothing you can’t handle, Danny. Not like you haven’t told this story before – just don’t trail off on a tangent and we’ll be fine._ “Well, I think I just didn’t have the time to tell you, really. It’s not exactly an epic, here. Let’s see,” she trailed off, leaning back further in her chair to look up at the dragon skeleton dangling from the ceiling. It was much easier to pretend like she was talking to that instead. “It all started back in June of 1991, when I was back home in California. I was a week out of school and I had already applied to work for the Congress’s Ministry of Defense, but back then, they had a long process of background checks to do, especially since my Standardized Indications of a Person’s Education in Magic – or S.I.P.E.M.s, for short – weren’t going to be available until the end of the month, so I was told I might have to wait a couple of weeks before I heard a response.

“Luckily for me, though, I had been writing to several fairly-well-known ghost hunting societies in the state, asking about their research methods and telling them that I was an avid fan fresh out of school who was going to go do more in-depth research at college in the fall to start my _own_ society.” She couldn’t help but glance over at Peeves, who was grinning and watching her with keen interest, now sitting up a little straighter. “I was lying through my teeth, of course; I _was_ a fan, but I was going to work for a government that, to their knowledge, didn’t even _exist_. Didn’t need to know _that_ , though, did they?” She grinned back at him, swearing that his eyes got even glitterier.

“You were a _fan?”_ he teased with a bit of a laugh. Of course he’d find that funny. Everyone always did.

The witch gave a half-hearted shrug. “What can I say, I spent at least half of my summers at home doing research on the paranormal for _fun_. I’ve read stuff on alleged psychics and ghosts for years, but I also looked into UFO sightings, so-called ‘demonic possessions’, and even infamous unsolved murders. Besides, you already knew I’d done hunts before. Did you _really_ think I wouldn’t be a fan of people who looked into that sort of stuff every day?” Dandrane asked, staring straight at him; the poltergeist still looked rather interested, particularly at the word ‘murders’.

“Yeah, but I’m doubting your sanity a little _more_ now, even if I am impressed…” He was _impressed?_ Dandrane turned her gaze back to the dragon’s empty eye sockets, trying to ignore the very happy feeling that bloomed under her ribcage.

“ _Anyway_ , a couple of them had actually written me back. One gave me the literary equivalent of a pat on the head, but the other two invited me to spend some time on real ghost hunts with them as a sort of intern. Since I had mentioned that I knew my way around audio and video equipment, one had offered to pay me for my assistance as long as I signed a waver that I would replace any equipment that I broke. Naturally, I called them up and asked when they would want to meet me, and pretty much from that day forward I was a member of the Clovis Paranormal Research Society. So, I drove my-”

Peeves slouched forward, waving a hand in front of her face to get her attention. “Wait, wait, hold _on_ a sec, Phlegmy. You haven’t even explained what a ghost hunt _is_.”

“Oh, sorry, uh…not used to _having_ to explain that part.” _Guess he never listened to those tapes…_ “Basically, a ‘ghost hunt’ is when a person or group decides to visit a supposedly haunted location and try to record any sort of paranormal activity there, either by photograph, audio, video, or purely for vocal testimony – though no one tends to believe you if you haven’t gotten any real proof, so going for kicks isn’t really the point. If you’re in a group, you pretty much spend the night staked out in a designated area or two waiting for a ghost to make itself known, and if you’re alone you’re wandering around the whole location to try and get some feedback. Anyway, a couple days after I had my formal interview with them I had to drive back down the freeway for like, _hours_ in my little Barracuda – it’s a type of _car_ , Peeves, it’s not like I rode a _fish_ \- just so I could help carry some of their equipment from their little headquarters, and that was when I found out _exactly_ where we were going:  the Wolfe Manor.

“Mind you, that decrepit piece of shit was built in the twenties and it aged about as well as _milk,_ but we were all pretty excited. The Wolfe Manor is one of the most infamously haunted places in California, and since it’s a former sanitarium every ghost enthusiast in the _state_ wanted to have a peek inside. So six people, plus me, walked into this run-down little hole to hell and started setting up our stuff – these guys had cameras, a ton of audio cassette recorders – like mine – and two portable video cameras, and we were all assigned a room to stay in for the night in-between occasional rounds of the place, since it’s freakin’ _huge,_ but I was the only one who was supposed to stay in my room, since I was a newbie.

“Since I was the only magic-user in the group, I was able to keep quiet enough to wander around the place without disturbing the audio recordings. So me and Xander were assigned rooms on opposite ends of the hall, and I’ve got their cassette recorder going in ‘my’ room while I’m really a couple doors down with my personal tape recorder, asking if anyone was there and if they could hear me. And I’m standing there, in the middle of the room, when I get the worst feeling _anyone_ in my position can get.”

She risked a look at him:  Peeves had moved his hands to his lap, still leaning forward as if she were talking very quietly, but he looked incredibly enthusiastic. “What’s that?”   

“That something’s _really_ not right.”

“What, that’s _it?”_ He slouched with a grimace in her direction. “That’s _nothing!”_

Dandrane rolled her eyes behind her glasses. “Peeves, _think_ about it. I’m a witch in a group of muggles in a haunted house that’s almost condemned. If one of them ended up injured or killed in ‘mysterious circumstances’, everything would be pinned on _me_ – I could’ve been sent to prison, or at the very least been out of a future career.”

The poltergeist raised a brow, sitting back up and regarding her with a curious look that didn’t bother to hide his skepticism. “So what happened, then?”

“Well, I hadn’t gotten any feedback from my recorder yet, so I decided to check the hallway in case it was just the room I was in that felt bad. I decide to check the next rooms as I go by – nothing in either of them but old rusting metal and wood, so nothing out of the ordinary, but then I get to _Xander’s_. The guy’s sitting on the floor with a fucking _Ouija board_ in the middle of the room, asking the ghosts to make their presence known, and I get the feeling that this is the absolute worst thing to do at the moment, so I go in and tell him to knock it off. I’m standing there, hands on my hips and telling him that he’s going to get hurt, when something _pushes_ me. I landed on my hands, but Xander tries to help me up, and just as he’s going to ask what happened, I _see it_ – a fucking _giant_ shard of glass floating through the air, about to come striking down on him. I whirl him around by the collar, almost knocking him into the window, but I felt the point of that fucking thing rip down my shoulder like nothing else-” Dandrane stopped to make a slicing motion in the air with her fingers, “ _swish_ , just like that. Of course, both of us were making a lot of noise, so the head of the team comes rushing up the stairs a minute later and I wind up being driven to the muggle emergency room in the backseat of a damn station-wagon with a huge towel pressing on my back.”

The poltergeist leaned back, looking interested and (though she _might_ be imagining it) a little concerned. “Why didn’t you just use magic to fix it?” He asked, raising one of his sharp black eyebrows.

“Xander saw the glass hit me and knew I’d be hurt, so there wasn’t a good way of covering that up,” Dandrane grumbled, forcing herself to look back at the dragon’s bony wings as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t like having to explain _that_ to my mom when I got home. She said the same thing as you; she lectured me for _ages_ until I told her I had apparated to St. Terabius to check my back several hours afterward.”

Peeves sniggered, kicking his legs joyfully next to her. “So did you go back?”

“Not on _that_ trip, I just met them back at their headquarters a day later. I went back to the Manor a couple years later, when I heard someone had made it into a haunted house attraction. I didn’t get pushed around that time, but it wasn’t much better,” the witch said with an involuntary scowl. “That’s the one thing I don’t like about working with muggles – I can’t just whip out my wand...”

He made a little humming noise in his throat; she couldn’t _not_ look at him now. “Don’t like being powerless, huh?” Peeves leered at her, a little heat permeating his otherwise impish demeanor.

Oh no, she wasn’t going to let _that_ comment slide. “It’s only a metaphor, Peeves. I can use some wandless magic, too, you know. Like _this_.” A flick and reeling motion of her left hand, and the nearest empty chair flew up in the air and landed on the student’s desk in front of it, much to his surprise. “Or this.” The flames in the chandelier extinguished themselves with a clench of her fist and came back to life when she spread her fingers wide. “See? I don’t need a wand, I just need to be allowed to use it,” she beamed proudly at him.

The poltergeist giggled and turned his stare from the newly ignited flames back to her. “I love it when you do that,” he said with an all-too-familiar gleam in his eye. Dandrane felt like her legs were slowly melting into jelly.

“So what were you going to tell me, anyway?” She asked, changing the subject as smoothly as she could, desperate to keep her expression as casual as possible.

Peeves expression didn’t change. “Just that I read through about a third of your little journal.”

“And?”

“You’re a loony,” he said plainly as he started to play with her shoelaces again. “You rambled a lot, but some of the things you wrote about the muggle’s research were okay. I never heard of the woman who could predict earthquakes before.”

“Well, I _did_ start writing that stuff years ago. Some of those pages are seven years old.”

“Uh- _huh_ ,” Peeves said disbelievingly, deciding to lean his elbow on the top of her shoes. “So did you record anything?”

“…for what?”

He rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “The _ghost hunt_. You said you had you tape-thingy going, but I know you don’t have a ‘California’ one in your collection.”

 _…that must’ve been the day he listened to the Binn’s tape. Guess he really_ does _look at all the finer details._ “Yes, I did.”

“So what _happened_ to it?!” He asked impatiently. She’d been afraid he would ask that.

“Give my copy of _Goon_ back and I’ll tell you.” _He’ll have to go fetch that, it should buy me a little time, and hopefully he won’t remember to ask that next time he drops by…_ “And I’ve got to go down to dinner in a few, might as well-”

Peeves, looking slightly smug, pulled the comic from under his jacket and flopped it onto the desk with a light ‘ _fwap’_. “There.” He repositioned himself to lean against her boots, crossing his legs and letting one foot tap to some rhythm in the air.

She had no other choice. He wasn’t going to leave otherwise. _Just keep calm. Keep to the bare facts._ “I destroyed it.” Dandrane only had to look at the poltergeist for a second to know that answer wasn’t going to fly. “When I was in the room with Xander, I didn’t hear anything, but…the tape…”

She hadn’t wanted to think about it, but she could almost hear it again. It was almost as if she were back in that hole-in-the-wall the crew had called an office with those thick headphones strapped over her head… 

That screeching, scratching noise that seemed to claw at her eardrums… The distorted pops of static that were almost like _words_ … Something told her that horrible, _unspeakable_ things were going to happen if she listened, but she was almost drawn in by the broken sounds, unable to will her hands to move…

“Phlegmy?”

Dandrane blinked, refocusing on the poltergeist sitting in front of her. Sabrina gave a squawk and fluttered down to the other end of the desk, watching her closely.

“Your nose is bleeding,” he pointed, his smile not as wide as usual.

She put her hand up to her upper lip – sure enough, it was wet, and suddenly she could smell copper. The witch pulled her legs off the desk, pinching her nose shut as she started to scramble through her left drawer for a Kleenex.

To her surprise, Peeves pulled one out of the right-hand drawer and handed it to her. She accepted it, careful not to touch his fingers.

“Thanks.”

“So it was cursed, huh?” The poltergeist watched as she wiped the blood off her fingers and nose, his black eyes unblinking as Sabrina shuffled closer. The witch reached up with her spare hand to stroke the bird’s bald head, partly to reassure the vulture that she was okay and partly to keep herself calm.

“…I don’t know _what_ it was. I only ever heard myself and Xander talking during the incident.”

“People don’t bleed for no reason, Phelgmy. I’d say someone was pretty pissed at you hanging around.”

What on Earth was he getting at? Unusual curses – the sorts said without wand movements and Latin – were known to have been unleashed unwittingly in fits of distress or anger, but the castor _always_ had to have a wand in hand to do so… “Can a magic-user’s ghost still curse things?”

Peeves gave her a rather wicked smirk – she always liked those on him, good things generally followed. “You would’ve _known_ if a wizard’s ghost was there, wouldn’t you?”

Well of course, she would’ve heard them talk, and she now knew they couldn’t will themselves invisible like Peeves… Not to mention, people casting magic always had a funny feeling in the air, like static electricity, and there had been nothing else in that room but an oppressing feeling of dread. The Ouija board had been clean of curses, too… Mind you, she had always figured there were spirits who had died in great fits of anger back there, and always attributed them to being the cause of the tape and the assault, but she never had any proof, and there were so many other factors to consider…

But since he was clearly leading her to think in that direction… Did he _believe_ her?

“That theory of yours seems to be gaining some merit, _Professor_ ,” he teased warmly, floating off the desk. “A couple more stories like that and you’ll have it in the bag.”

Dandrane stared after the poltergeist as he made his way to the door, torn between hating to see him leave and being glad she didn’t have to endure more inner-turmoil. Then, something clicked in her head.

She made her away around the desk, removing the tissue from her clamped nose. “Wait! Wait, ba- _Peeves!_ ”

He turned his head, the door poised open and ready to be slammed shut behind him; he seemed pleasantly surprised.

“You never answered – can a magic user’s ghost still cast curses?”

“Oh, _I_ don’t know,” he said smoothly with his usual infernal grin, “Guess I’ll have to ask around, eh, _Professor_?”

She felt her face warm considerably as the door banged shut, her mind buzzing. Was Peeves deliberately trying to drive her crazy, making her feel so many things at once?

_“I’ll make sure to drive you to the nutter’s house by the end of term.” Can’t say he was wrong, even if it’s really my own fault now…_

Sabrina cawed from the edge of the desk.

“I’m fine, sweetie,” she cooed at the vulture, returning to pet her head and beak affectionately. She dabbed the Kleenex at her nose and brought it away to look – the bleeding had stopped. “Physically, anyways.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well... Looks like I got ahead of schedule, eh? I know this chapter is short, but you guys had nearly _30 pages_ last time. That chapter was a fucking _BEAST_. I wanted to give you something in-between the next chapter, too, which is likely going to be another beast to write. I hope this chapter title was okay, too - writing those are fun, but still challenging, and I'm afraid I tend to stick to the first 'good' one I think of. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Oh, Danny, you fool. Why must you hate yourself over something you can’t help? All that pent-up UST is going to get to you…


	10. Fanning the Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **IMPORTANT!** Additional tags for this chapter (that will be added to the full list by next chapter) are as follows: masturbation (male), alcohol use, vomit, and paranoia.

A young witch clad in the shortest set of robes the wizarding world had to offer leaned over the broomstick she had placed provocatively between her legs, revealing her very bare ass; she was looking at him with the same bedroom eyes that half the witches in PlayWizard seemed to have. The brunette bent over further, showing off just how hard the thick polished wood was pressing against her as the tall red-head in nothing but thigh-highs on the next page repeatedly flashed her large breasts from behind a hat she was holding in her polished fingers.

Peeves flipped the page, running his eyes over the next photograph to see if it was worth a look. A short blonde in killer heels and the skimpiest bikini he’d ever seen winked at him underneath an article title - _Muggle Girls Are Easy – You Don’t Need Magic!_ He huffed, ignoring the brief show of the witch pulling aside her top in favor of taking another large gulp of firewhisky from the mostly-drunken bottle sitting on the unused classroom’s desk. The spicy alcohol burned his tongue and the back of his throat, but he felt a warm thrill go through him as a result of the heavy stinging flavor. He needed this today.

It was bad enough that he couldn’t seem to catch the pretty _Defense_ teacher alone for over a week - both Sir Nearly-Headless Nick and Sir Knight Trechadod had cornered him to ask him about his spying progress as soon as dinner started several floors below them. It wasn’t the first time a fellow ghost had talked to him about this in the last month, but usually they kept it rather short. This time, though, both had asked a lot more nosy questions than normal; Peeves guessed that Lady Ravenclaw wanted better answers but couldn’t be bothered to see him herself. She never deigned to talk in front of students unless she was in her own tower, and ghosts weren’t much of an exception to this unspoken rule. Honestly, he guessed that she just liked having some control over other people – likely because of her _mommy-issues_.

But the things they asked:  ‘Where is she going in the castle?’ ‘What was she writing down earlier?’ ‘Where is she keeping records?’ Peeves had a feeling that they - much like the haughty, slightly paranoid Lady Ravenclaw - thought Professor Flemming was up to something nefarious. Friar Glaedwine seemed to have kept his mouth shut about everything so far – whether it was for Peeves to prove he’d been doing his job or simply out of respect for the professor herself, Peeves didn’t know. In any case, it meant a lot of careful word choices on the poltergeist’s part. He did like watching them squirm over it all, even if it just meant he was putting off the inevitable declaration that Dandrane was about as dangerous to the castle as one of the rusted suits of armor.

Not that Peeves wanted that to be true, of course. She was a clever ex-Auror and could use magic without her wand _and_ without the arm she typically held the wand in – she had the _makings_ of a dangerous witch. He just didn’t have any solid proof of it. Really, the only way he was going to see a display of _that_ sort of power was if someone provoked her somehow…

At that thought, the poltergeist turned his attention back to the girlie magazine in front of him. The witches between the pages were pretty, but none of them looked enough like her to satisfy his tastes. The taller girls always had bigger busts and the flatter-chested ones never had hair as short as hers, and _none_ of them had her eyes. It was funny that he never noticed the distinct lack of modern muggle fashions in these raunchy sorts of monthlies before now, too; there was always one sprinkled here or there between issues, but they were _never_ anything like Dandrane. They were basic and toned-down, never daring to wear anything with serious pops of color or being remotely close to some semblance of _style,_ conventional or not. Even the bikini in this issue was oddly boring, even if it _was_ tiny.

Peeves settled on the image of a brunette with b-cups sitting spread-eagled on a stool. It was close enough for now, and all his attention was focused on what was between her legs, anyway. The mild burning sensation still creeping down his throat, he imagined Dandrane perched on the stool instead…or better yet, he’d love to see her like that in one of her chairs… Her office chair, maybe, the black one with the high back near the fireplace.

She’d be waiting for him in that sheer-ish floor-length nightgown of hers, those piercing blue eyes watching him hungrily as he came in, waiting until he was close enough to shift that flimsy material aside and spreading her long, creamy legs… Peeves shivered, feeling unrestrained arousal course through him at the thought of her running her fingers over her slit, like the women in the centerfold often did. His trousers were undone in less than a minute; the girl in the magazine was wriggling her hips slightly, playfully biting her lip.

Peeves took another big swig of firewhisky, trying to mentally transfer the feeling of warmth from his mouth to his hands, picturing himself finally running them over Dandrane’s smooth thighs as she spread herself open with her fingers for him to see. He wanted so badly to touch her there, too, so he could delight in watching her writhe in his hands; he had no doubt that every part of her was hot to the touch, so he tried to conjure back that feeling of when she had touched his wrists and neck with her bare hands. The poltergeist wrapped his own pale blue hand around his erection, closing his eyes and sinking back into the wooden chair as he stroked himself, imagining Dandrane shuffling her hips towards him and pull him closer by his shoulders, digging her nails into his back as she kissed him hard…

Then he remembered how oddly firm her grip on his throat had been. He tightened his fingers more, feeling his nerves tingle and both his face and cock grow warmer as he imagined it was _her_ hand that was wrapped around his member, pumping his shaft one minute and wandering her fingers over the head the next, practically sizzling his skin. It was Dandrane whose thumb rolled over the tip and rubbed the pre-cum around with a little more force than necessary before sliding her hand down to the base and applying more pressure at that _one_ spot…

Peeves could picture it very clearly – sitting in her lap with her legs on either side of his, not being able to see her but feeling her small breasts press against his back, sinking into the glorious feeling of soft, searing human warmth as she stroked his dick faster and whispered something into his ear, seizing him harshly at the base at the last second -

Peeves could barely hear his own strangled low moan as he ejaculated on the desk, feeling his head hit the back of the chair and knocking a small dose of reality back into him. He was alone in an empty unused classroom, drinking and wanking his frustration away three floors above the cause of his fantasies. He took a very long drink from the giant whisky bottle, trying not to touch the sticky cum clinging on the desk’s edge.

It hadn’t been the first time he’d fantasized about her, of course, but it had been what, a month since the last time he had the opportunity? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to lead her or if he wanted to be in her control anymore. Both ideas were appealing, and he was discovering that he didn’t care which scenario it was – only that it all just didn’t seem satisfying if it wasn’t _her_. That was what made him want another drink.

He noticed how tense the muscles in her arms and shoulders had gotten when he had flirted with her last time. He had liked seeing her in that moment of unease, since she was usually so cool and collected – the fact that she simply diverted the subject rather than getting stingy was what made him continue to tease her. It gave him hope that maybe he had a chance, that maybe her reaction was just a front for something, because the way she beamed at him couldn’t have possibly been an act...

Maybe he should make sure. Maybe she had a real limit to how much shit he could do before she tried to hex him. There was only one way to find out.

Peeves stood up, avoiding the gluey mess in front of him and not caring if it dried there, half on the pages and half on the faded wood. He felt a rush of dizziness in his head, and he blinked hard, eyeing the last inch of amber liquid in the bottle next to his hand. He might as well have another few sips of liquid courage.

One long drink later (accompanied by the re-buttoning of his trousers, which took more time than he’d like to admit), Peeves made his way slowly down the halls, trying to float steadily towards Dandrane’s office, not caring whether or not he would catch her alone this time.

*~*~*~*~*

“Ugh, I _know_ you’re in here somewhere,” Dandrane Flemming grumbled to herself as she sorted through her trunk of clothes with a desperate fervor, clenching her thighs together. _I’m going to kick myself if I left it at home,_ she thought in annoyance, tossing aside a pair of jean shorts. _I swore I put it with my summer stuff…_

The creaking noise of the unoiled hinge on her office door made her pause – it was past curfew, maybe ten o’clock… There was only one person who ever entered her rooms unannounced. She shut the drawer of the trunk she had been rifling through – even if it _was_ in there, she sure wasn’t going to look for that sort of thing with Peeves in the room.

Sure enough, another squeak of the hinges later and he appeared at the doorframe of her bedroom, leaning against the stone walls with one arm and looking very flushed. His black eyes looked somewhat watery.

“Phleeeegmy, _there_ you are,” he said with a bit of a slur in his words. “What’s Phlegmy up to?”

“Nothing important,” she said a little too hastily, sitting up straight from her position on the floor. “Been drinking?”

“Jus’ a little,” he said, putting his thumb and index finger together. “How’d ya know?”

“Educated guess.”

The poltergeist giggled a little louder than normal, floating slightly crookedly over to her spot before steadying himself against her trunk. “What’s Phlegmy _really_ up to? Doesn’t _look_ like nothing.”

“Getting ready for bed,” Dandrane half-lied, pushing herself up to stand and ignoring the ache in her groin that had been bugging her for the past ten minutes. She’d never seen him drunk before, but it probably didn’t bode well – it was best to try and get him out before he did something foolish. Especially since she was in nowhere _near_ the proper mood to deal with him.

It was a bit too late for that, though. Peeves leaned more on the trunk, looking at her with hooded eyes and a somewhat lopsided grin. “’m surprised you’ve still got those on, then,” he said, pointing to her purple loungewear, “’ve never seen you in _pajamas_.”

“Give me a break, I just don’t like wearing pants under the covers,” Dandrane waved off with a shrug.

Peeves suddenly collapsed against the trunk in mirth, slapping his hand once or twice against the trunk lid and sucking in huge breaths of air to continue laughing loudly at her.

“What? What’s so funny?”

He paused, sniggering as he peered at her with eyes that swam with amusement. “P-pants - _Phlegmy_ , you…you-” he couldn’t finish, as he had collapsed into another insane cackle.

It clicked, suddenly, and Dandrane felt embarrassment crawl over her face. “ _Trousers_ , for fuck’s sake, I meant _trousers_!” It didn’t stop him from laughing. “I’m _American_ , it’s _always_ been pants - it’s not _that_ funny!” She exclaimed, barely hearing it over his raucous cackling.

Peeves gasped in another breath of air, letting out a tiny giggle as he looked back up at her as he lay halfway off the trunk. “Yes it is!”

“Whatever. You done?”

“ _No_ ,” he teased, eyes glittering and looking less watery than before. He may have sobered up a little, but the purple blush on his cheeks remained. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you slept in the nip, actually...”

She folded her arms, suddenly a lot more irritated at his suggestive tone. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” She asked in the calmest voice she could muster, her eyes narrowing at him.

“I _mean_ you’re so hot that you must need _some_ way of keeping cool,” he leered with a sleazy grin.

Dandrane felt another blush spread across her cheeks as she groaned at his joking form of flattery. She did not need his right now. Deciding that ignoring him would be the best way to get him to leave for now, she walked to her bathroom, causing the set of dingy oil-lamps that hung on the walls to light themselves, and set about brushing her teeth, figuring that she wasn’t going to get any of her pent-up sexual frustration out any time tonight. With any luck, she’d find the magic bullet she had been searching for some time tomorrow afternoon, when she had one of her breaks. Maybe it was a good thing she didn’t find it today, with Peeves here; who knows what would have happened if he’d seen _that_.

She just wished Peeves would decide to leave of his own accord. It was awkward having him around when she was still trying not to just give into her own desires, even if he _was_ intoxicated. At least he was being more annoying than sultry this time. Dandrane spit the minty toothpaste back into the sink, shut off the water and barely registered the lights going out behind her when she whirled around:  Peeves was now laying comfortably on her bed, in her spot, watching her with his head on her pillow, his arm tucked underneath it.

“What are you doing?” She asked flatly. He grinned up at her, deliberately snuggling further into her pillow.

“What it looks like.”

“You’re can’t sleep here.”

“You’ve _got_ room.”

“Peeves, get off.”

“Already did. I’m doing this now.”

Dandrane reached for her wand, which was usually in the nearest pocket or sleeve, but when she grasped at nothing, she realized with mild horror that she had pre-emptively stuck her wand under her pillow like she did every night.

In that moment, Peeves realized there was something mildly uncomfortable under his head, too, and pulled out her wand. It took a few painfully slow seconds for him to register what he had in his hand, but once he did, his eyes lit up like fairy lights. “Well, well, well – a _witchie_ without her _wandie_?”

Dandrane had never been really intimidated by him until now. He was still somewhat drunk, therefore more unpredictable than usual, and looking as though he’d found an unguarded box of Fillibuster’s fireworks. He sat up, dangling his legs over the side of the mattress and rolling the spruce wand in-between his fingers, his focus entirely on her.

“You look nervous, there, Phlegmy,” he purred, seeming to caress every word. Being intimidated and aroused was really not a good combination right now. “Worried I might try to _cuuurrrse_ you?”

The pink-haired witch didn’t know quite what to say. She didn’t think he’d _deliberately_ try to hurt her with her own wand, but he was twirling the thing in all directions and she didn’t know what his magic would actually do when holding a real wand… She didn’t know what would happen if she tried to _accio_ it back to her, either – it could cause a cross-magic reaction. She was stuck.

“ _Don’t_ be,” Peeves said silkily, his flushed face giving her a wide grin. “I just want to show you a magic trick.”

“I don’t want you using my wand by yourself, Peeves,” she said as firmly as possible, a plan forming in her head. It would be dangerous for her, but it might be the only way to get her wand back safely… It was worth the risk. “It has dragon heart-string, it can be temperamental.”

“Then take a seat,” the poltergeist leered at her, still grinning as he patted the space on the bed next to him. “No use being in the firing line, right?”

Dandrane took the few steps towards him, watching him for any sign of impulsive behavior, and sat cross-legged on the purple duvet, the squeak of the springs under her making her uneasy. This wasn’t how she pictured sitting on the bed with him before, and that thought alone was intrusive and an annoying reminder of the persistent heat between her legs. _For the greater good, Danny. Just ignore it._  “Sit here,” she said smoothly, patting her thigh, “and keep the wand pointed at the floor.”

She knew she didn’t need to ask twice. “Oooh, the _V.I.P. seat_ , eh?” Peeves’ eyes got a dangerous spark in them, and he moved to sit with his ass right between her thighs, making a show of slowly sinking his back against her, his head tucking slightly under her chin.

She was mad at him, and a little worried of what might happen to both of them, but it didn’t stop her lower-half from getting excited at finally having some sort of stimulation. It was like torture, being able to be this close to him and not being able to do anything. “Wand-hand, Peeves,” she said with a deliberate purr in her tone as she held out her palm to him.

Peeves held his right hand out in front of him, pale blue fingers gently gripping the smooth base of her wand like it was a lover. “Don’t _try_ anything, now,” he teased, moving to look back at her with a devilish smirk.

Dandrane, feeling warmth flood her whole body, focused her attention on his hand as she wrapped her fingers loosely around his, hearing a small, breathy giggle emit from his mouth as she tried to ignore how soft his skin was.

Without any further ado, Peeves gave her wand a rather stylish flick at the bathroom’s doorway, resulting the uncanny sound of a cracking mirror. It looked like a massive fist had punched it squarely in the center.

“Hmm, I could do _better_ ,” the poltergeist mumbled to himself. He turned to look at the wardrobe in the corner, and before the witch could do or say anything, he gave a quick sideways slashing motion at the piece of furniture, dragging her hand along with his. The wood turned hard and silvery, as if he had turned it to metal, and then began to twist and collapse in on itself, taking a new shape, a _human_ shape…

The wardrobe had transformed into a larger-than-life set of armor that looked like it had come straight from Henry the Fifth’s military. It stood gleaming in the light of the miniature iron chandelier that hung not too far away. Another turn of his wrist and Peeves somehow made the suit of armor twist itself onto one knee.

To say Dandrane was impressed was an understatement. She didn’t think he could do such complex magic, let alone _silently_ , and on _top_ of that make a piece of armor that she had never seen outside a museum. It was… _exciting_. What else was he capable of? How was he able to use a wand properly? She chanced a look at him – he grinned up at her, giving another flick of the wand and setting the armor aflame. Her heart jumped into her throat, realizing half her clothes were still in there, but rather than burning, the metal armor was just reforming back into the wardrobe’s original shape, creaking as only shifting metal could.

“So? What’d ya think?” Peeves asked, the light in his eyes dancing with the flickering orange flames.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” she said in astonishment, wishing she had something less lame to say. “ _How_ did you do that?”

“The same way you do,” he said, lowering his wand-hand to settle on her thigh, her hand still gently holding his, her plan of slipping the wand out of his fingers forgotten.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“You never asked.”

Between this exciting new discovery, her messy feelings for the poltergeist, the awkward heat in her lap, and his ridiculous excuse, Dandrane couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “I should’ve known,” she said with a chuckle, almost not registering Peeves’ spreading his fingers and trailing them up her leg a few inches until he slipped his hand out from under hers, leaving her wand back in her very loose grasp. She laughed a little harder as the pleasant needy heat in her lap grew hotter.

The poltergeist turned a little more towards her, his smile barely there and his cloudy eyes full of sinful promises as he brushed his thumb over her inner thigh. Dandrane’s laughter died away – even through the thick cotton, she could feel that…

She hated how weak she was becoming. Every spot his body touched hers was hot and reveling in attention; she had no doubt that he could feel every bit of her body heat, too.

Peeves shifted, pulling up one knee to sit himself sideways on her lap to face her better, one leg dangling down over the side of the bed and one of his arms balancing him on the mattress as the other rested in his lap; even if he sat up straight, he still wouldn’t be eye-level with her. “You send a lot of mixed signals,” he said in a low voice, black eyes staring into hers. “You know that?”

Dandrane opened her mouth to say something, but she didn’t know what. He was right, after all. She teased him one moment, usually by foolish slips of the tongue, and rebuffed him the next because she held herself in check. “I… You’re right, I do, but…” she stumbled over words, forcing herself to breathe in. “I… I didn’t really mean to.”

Peeves grinned up at her, and before she could even muster up the will to stop him, he wrapped his propped-up arm around her back and leaned up to kiss her.

Dandrane had no excuse for leaning in to meet him halfway. No excuse for wrapping her arms around him. No excuse for pulling him down with her onto the soft bedspread and letting her wand roll away. There was no thought in her head, nothing to go by other than the unbearable heat under her skin and the long-restrained feelings that finally overflowed her reason.

The desperation for close contact climbed higher and higher as they detangled their limbs, his shorter legs seeming to want to curl around her. Their magics seemed to mingle together, like trailing fingers of crackling sparks over every place they touched now, the most heated flowing from their mouths. Hot, needy desire flooded the witch’s body without restrain, and she felt herself becoming heady as she slowly ran her fingers down his back. She opened her mouth mid-kiss to slowly run her tongue over his lips, feeling a wonderful thrill upon hearing the groan coming from the back of his throat.  

Her eyes flew wide open, her senses snapping right back into place. Peeves still tasted _unmistakably_ of firewhisky.

She pulled away, hating how she had disregarded the still-present flush on the poltergeist’s cheeks. His eyes were still a little glossy, but being this close she could see the purple rims around them. “How much have you had to drink?”

He blinked confusedly down at her. “Why?”

“Because you’re still drunk,” she stated in a firm, concerned voice.

“So?” He scoffed, pulling away only slightly. “I don’t care.”

“I _do_.” Dandrane sat partway up, pushing him gently aside so he rolled off her. “It’s not right.”

“You’re no fun,” he sighed, eyes drooping a little.

The witch scowled at the bone-white hangings over her bed. “I shouldn’t have kissed you in the first place,” she grumbled, running a hand through her spikes of hair. _Great, now I really am a pervert._

“Since when did you enchant your canopy?” Peeves muttered, staring up at the ceiling. He squinted at it for a moment, as if trying to decipher a code printed up there. “That’s… _wonky_.”

_His vision must be getting blurry. He’s going to crash if he’s not careful._ “Peeves, you should probably sleep here.”

“There you go again,” he said with a sleepy blink at the ceiling, “being a cock-tease…”

The woman was actually grateful she was used to hearing that particular insult from club-bouncing creeps and wannabe-boyfriends; it didn’t piss her off as _nearly_ as much as it used to. She didn’t know how much he’d remember by the morning, but she hoped he would forget calling her that anyway. She didn’t want him to think she was _too_ soft on him. “Just try to fall asleep, dude. It’ll help.”

The poltergeist passed out seconds later, no sound of snoring or breathing to let her know he was asleep; there was just absolute stillness. It was eerie, seeing Peeves lie as still as a corpse, not breathing or moving an inch, with his expression, for the first time, completely _blank_.

Dandrane felt his wrist for a pulse, just to make sure, and soon found herself levitating Peeves with her wand and shuffling her blankets around him, tilting his head to the side on propped up pillows in case he threw up. He may not need to breathe, but she imagined that it wouldn’t be very fun for anybody, human or not, to wake up to a mouthful of vomit.

The pink-haired witch lay awake in her chair before the cold fireplace for what felt like another hour, trying desperately to sleep and drive away the shame of both foolishly succumbing to her body’s cravings and taking advantage of a drunk man. She couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she should just go ahead and tell him how she felt, just to get it over with. At least she wouldn’t feel as tormented.

_Ah, but there’s the tricky bit, isn’t it,_ she thought, pulling a magically-copied version of her comforter over her shoulders _. Do I tell him I want to keep my distance so I won’t get hurt, or do I tell him I’m into him and bear with whatever emotional rollercoaster I get forced to ride seven months from now?_

*~*~*~*~*

Returning to consciousness was not something foreign to Hogwart’s resident poltergeist. He slept often during the summers to conserve as much magical energy as possible (as well as make the time go by faster) and he had occasions where he had drunken so much he fell asleep in whatever room he had occupied at the time.

However, Peeves was not accustomed to waking up in a bed with the covers pulled up and two pillows underneath his shoulders, so when he awoke, blinking tiredly into the very dim light of the sunrise streaming in through the window and tasting something acidic in his mouth, he was incredibly confused as to where he was.

He sat up, wiping off the gross crusty feeling on his chin with the back of his hand, and almost immediately caught sight of the plum-colored comforter that was keeping his legs unusually warm. He’d seen it before. He’d _lain_ on it before. It was Professor Flemming’s bed.

He snapped his attention to what he thought was her side of the queen-sized bed – it was empty, except for a stain of dark amber near his pillow. Going by her clock, it was almost seven.  

Peeves breathed in, smelling his own magic-based stomach acid, stale firewhisky and a trace of the witch’s perfume as he tried to remember why he was in her bedroom. He remembered finding the half-empty bottle of firewhisky someone had gotten from The Three Broomsticks, drinking a lot of it and deciding that he was alone enough to toss off, and fantasizing about Dandrane doing that for him… He kind of recalled smacking into a statue in the hallway…

He didn’t remember anything after that. So how in the name of all magic did he get in her bed?

Did… Did they _sleep_ _together_?

The poltergeist felt strange at the very idea. It was exciting, _thrilling_ really, to think she’d actually have sex with him… And yet somehow, he sort of dreaded the thought of it happening. Not only had he never had any sort of even _vaguely_ romantic encounters before and he wouldn’t have known what he was doing no matter how much he wanted it, but even despite that, he would’ve _wanted_ to remember it.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought. It felt otherworldly, even _disturbing_ , to think that something so intimate had happened between them and he didn’t recall _one single second_ of it. Like it meant nothing. Like it was just another thing to do to pass the time.

That wasn’t what he wanted.

The tell-tale sounds of lightly running water caught Peeves’ attention. Dandrane’s bathroom light was on.

He tossed the covers away with more force than necessary and opened the bathroom door, greeted by the sight of a very cracked and foggy mirror hanging over the simple porcelain sink. _Did a troll punch it or something?_

Wisps of bright green steam were rolling beneath the ceiling, trailing back to the claw-foot tub and the plain white shower curtain that obscured the witch from view. Numerous candles floated near the ceiling, a large cluster of which hung over the center of the tub. Over the sound of the shower and the dull thumping in his ears, he could hear her singing to herself:

“Put me in a wheelchair, get me on a plane; hurry, hurry, hurry, before I go in-sane; I can’t control my fingers, I can’t control my brain-”

“Phlegmy,” he interrupted, his voice weary and almost panicked; he never sounded like that before. He didn’t know exactly what to say next. What did he even come in here for? Wasn’t he just going to make things more awkward than they already were?

“…Peeves? You feeling okay?”

It was like she plucked a heartstring in his chest a little too hard. He felt uncomfortable with the level of concern in her voice. Like she actually _cared_ about him.

“Are you alright? Did I wake you up…?”

Peeves found himself standing there and staring at the simple curtain before him. His feet felt too heavy to float properly in one place. “What did I do last night?” The words came out a little weird. Maybe it was because he had clenched his fists to help relieve some of the tightness in his chest.  “Did I… Did we… _do_ something?” he asked in a pathetically quiet voice, for once in his life properly embarrassed in front of someone else. How was he supposed to ask one of the most awkward questions in the world?

“What?”

“Did we…” He took a deep breath and let out the next sentence a little too fast:  “Did we sleep together?”

Dandrane gave a little chuckle; it was like his heart was getting crushed under the sound. “You were drunk off your _ass_ , man; I’d be a _mongo_ douche-canoe if I slept with you like that.”

Relief washed over him as he felt the block of tension in his gut melt halfway. There was still the _other_ question. “So, how did I get _here?”_

“You passed out.”

“And the pillow-”

“I put them there for you.”

“Did you slee-”

“I slept in the chair in the other room,” she explained off-handedly, “I don’t recommend it, by the way, it’s damn stiff.”

“ _So_ _what did I do last night?”_ He asked sharply, growing more irritated at her casual interruptions.

Only the sounds of water gushing through an old showerhead passed between them for a little too long. Dandrane must have been thinking how best to answer. What could he have done that would be so difficult to talk about?

“You borrowed my wand,” she said calmly. “Uh, _commandeered_ , actually, but still… You wanted to show off, so I let you.”

He… He touched a _wand?_ Peeves hadn’t been allowed to so much as silently covet one from afar in over seven-hundred years. Wands caused destruction and mayhem and confusion when they were in his hands. No one in their right mind would let him near one willingly. _Then again, Dandrane is a little ‘round the bend, isn’t she?_

“I haven’t gotten around to fixing my mirror yet,” she added with a light laugh in her smooth voice. “A standard _reparo_ won’t work on it apparently.”

Of course it wouldn’t. Half the mirrors in the castle were enchanted somehow or other. Quite a few of them had anti-shattering spells on them to begin with. Why mention…? Oh, _he_ must’ve broken it. Of course. Why didn’t she just _say_ that?

“You really impressed me, you know.” She actually sounded sort of _proud_ of him. “Though I _was_ kind of pissed to find all my clothes on the bottom of the closet. I guess those non-slip hangers don’t really work after being bent out of shape.”

Peeves wanted to find that funny, but it was hard when he couldn’t understand what exactly she was talking about. He didn’t remember even coming in her room, for fuck’s sake. Didn’t she _get_ that?

He bit his lip, tasting acid and remnants of dulled liquor. Disgusting.

“What else did I do?” Surely, _surely_ , there was something else he had done. That couldn’t be _everything_.

“With you on the other side of this curtain like this, it’s almost like I’m in a confessional or something,” she added with a laugh. “No, sorry; forget I said that.”

There was a pause. He must’ve done something wrong.

When she spoke again, her voice was a little too bright: “You know, I don’t think anything else happened. Of course, I’m running on, like, three hours of sleep here.”

Liar.

LIAR.

Peeves found himself much closer to the curtain that separated them. He was sure that if he ripped it away, they would be face to face. “ _Dandrane_ ,” the words flowed as menacingly as one could with a higher-than-normal-for-a-man’s voice, “ _don’t lie to me_.”

The curtain slid aside in a flash. Dandrane looked down at him, her eyes as cold and piercing as shards of ice, despite the dark circles underneath and the water dripping down the side of her face. Even if he wanted to in that moment, he couldn’t look away from her hard stare.

“What makes you think I am?” She asked with narrowed eyes and a curled lip. “Do you really think I’d _do_ something to you? Or let you do something _rash?”_ At any other time, he would’ve enjoyed this sort of reaction. Magic was ebbing into him, but it was only by second nature that he absorbed it; he was only paying attention to her face. “Do you think _that little_ of me?”

“You gave me your _wand!”_

“You _found_ my wand!” She shouted back, sounding a little less angry. “I mean…for fuck’s sake, Peeves,” she sighed, looking away slightly before trapping him in her gaze once more. “I wouldn’t have let you use it by _yourself_. Do you think I’m that stupid?”

No, he didn’t. She was a lot of things, but ‘stupid’ wasn’t something that came to mind.

“Look,” she said with a bit more patience, loosening her grip on the shower curtain as her expression grew softer, “I wouldn’t have let you get carried away with _anything_. We didn’t have sex, you didn’t embarrass yourself, no one broke anything important; you were as safe as I could make you.”

He felt kind of relieved, but now there was an oddly hot feeling on the back of his neck. He glanced down, not wanting to meet her gaze suddenly, and for half a second stared at her tear-shaped breasts before turning his whole head to the side, feeling awkward about peeping in this sort of situation. He concentrated on the stone wall instead.

“Peeves, I promise – nothing else happened. I’m not a _complete_ asshole.”

“I know,” he said quietly. He didn’t want to look at her.

He heard the curtain rustle closed. “I’m sorry,” Dandrane’s voice drifted from behind it seconds later.

“For _what?”_

“Making you feel like this,” the witch said quietly, making Peeves’ gut squirm. “I know waking up in a weird place with no memory of how you got there isn’t fun.”

It wasn’t, but that wasn’t what nagged him. He didn’t trust a drunken version of himself around her, especially since that had been fantasizing about her on and off lately. Only _Dandrane_ knew now what he had done or said last night. Only _she_ knew how she replied. All he could do was draw a blank.

It was actually funny when he thought of it like that.

“Why are you laughing?” Her voice floated overhead, curious and somewhat concerned, and damn it, his little laugh died slowly like a wounded deer as soon as he heard her.

“I never _had_ to feel like this before.” It was all _really_ funny, actually. Never in his existence was he this concerned over his actions, and he didn’t even remember them.

“I… I’m sorry.”

“Why are _you_ apologizing?” He said with a laugh, staring at the white curtain in front of him. “It’s not like you’re _making_ me.” Though maybe she _was_. She was certainly the _cause_ of it.

“I don’t know. I just think I should anyway.”

“Don’t,” he replied with a bit of his usual grin, not caring if she couldn’t see it. “Least I got more magic out of you.”

“…get out of my bathroom,” Dandrane replied in a flat tone.

“Or what? You’re gonna wound your patient now?”

“Once you leave the sick-room, you’re no longer a patient. And unless you want to find out what it’s like to be blasted with ten-thousand volts, you’ll leave.”

“You flirt,” Peeves teased, quietly hoping that she wasn’t going to live up to her threat too fast. He wasn’t sure how many volts of electricity it took to hurt a person, but ten-thousand sounded like far too much. He floated away from the shower, the bathroom, and Dandrane, leaving the door open to annoy her further.

He passed the stain on her pillow, trying not to look at it. His stomach practically threatened to eat itself when he did. Feeling strangely drained somehow, he left her quarters, figuring maybe some space from her was what he needed right now. It wouldn’t do him any favors to linger, even though part of him wanted to turn back just because she was still in there.

Maybe he shouldn’t touch firewhiskey again for another few years, either.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOAH BOY A VERY SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO ALL THREE OF YOU WHO GAVE ME KUDOS! I WAS VERY, **_VERY_** HAPPY TO SEE THOSE EMAIL NOTIFICATIONS!!! I HOPE A WISH OF YOURS WAS GRANTED!! ♪(┌・ 3 ・)┌
> 
> So, the journey through this one was a mix of: “haha _yes_ now _x_ happens, add more torment!! More fuel for the fire!!” and “well fuck how do I get to _x_ in the first fucking place why did I think this was a good idea” and the real kicker “I hope I’m doing this right”. It's a twisted sort of fun. Peeves is lucky he's not a human, or he would've died from alcohol poisoning with the amount he drank in such a short span of time; he also doesn't get hangovers, due to not having to drink water to live. He does vomit after over-use though, because his magical body can't process all that alcohol _that_ fast, and when he sleeps/blacks out it shuts down his energy processors to conserve as much as possible, so any unprocessed alcohol comes right back up. 
> 
> Thinking about what the magical world's dirty magazines would be like was fun! Witches and wizards are pretty conservative from what we see in the books (ex: Molly Weasley calls women who are flirty/date more than one person "scarlet women"; who _does_ that?!), but just like the Victorian age, they have a perverted underbelly that's slowly catching up. PlayWizard is, of course, influenced by PlayBoy (which debuted in 1953), but I feel like it wouldn't have come about until the mid-sixties to early seventies in the UK's wizard market. The late seventies at most. At least PW's centerfolds got more raunchy over the years!
> 
> If you liked this chapter, I guarantee you’ll like the next even more. And if you didn’t, well, uh…the next chapter won’t be the same formula or anything. It just…well you know it wouldn’t be fun if I spoiled _everything_ , would it? I'm fairly sure it's going to be a long one, at least - and I know I said before "the next chapter will be great b/c I'm looking forward to writing it I've been waiting ages!", but this time? It's for real. It's plot helped inspire the whole damn story. The story's changed a bit along the way (what with character development and all), but it's core is there, and it's worth the wait. I’m hoping to have it up before July, but a close friend of mine is moving waaaay up north in less than two weeks to live with her boyfriend (don’t worry, he’s sane, polite, and they’ve lived together for almost half a year), and I’m hoping to spend time with her before I have to say goodbye. I don’t even know if I can handle that properly… So it might take a little longer. See you next time, darlings. Stay cool. (〃´3′〃)ゞ


	11. The Dam Breaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos - and the sweet comment from Drunken_Gazelle! This one’s for you guys! ฅ(♡ơ ₃ơ)ฅ
> 
> ALSO DID YOU GUYS KNOW ROWLING IS RELEASING 3 EBOOKS ON SEPT. 6th????? One of them is "Short Stories from Hogwarts: of Power, Politics, and Pesky Poltergeists". You bet your ASS I'm gonna read that, even if it just ends up being a rehash of the Pottermore articles I found on the HP wiki. Idgaf, I'm reading it. At least my son will be in it for more than a casual mention!!! (And no, this story will not be canon- compliant with A Cursed Child. Heck, if I don't like it, I won't add anything from the "new" ebooks, either.)
> 
> NOTE: Regarding “visa-user laws” in this story: There's no known law in the Ministry of Magic about if you can sue someone or not, let alone over what. For this story, the Ministry is still pretty faulty; any person who is not a legal resident of the UK cannot sue a UK resident, unless the case is theft of property or violent in nature (sexual assault, battery, possession of person's body, etc.). In Danny's case, her claim would be dismissed immediately, as _silencio_ is considered a "non-violent" spell. In contrast, the Congress views any spell or potion used on another person without their consent/knowledge as harmful to that person. 
> 
> Additional tags for this chapter: sexual assault (mention). ALSO, if you’re triggered or squicked out by talk of rape, skip the third paragraph in the End Notes.

*~*~*~*~*

Cyrus Hemingr winced as he took another step down the grand staircase, hoping to any deity that would listen that his ankle wasn’t sprained. He had missed the trick step for the fifth time that year. Thankfully, no one was around to see it today.

Funny, though, how all of those forgotten steps would prelude to strange events. The first time it happened, some of his classmates had laughed, but he got helped up by the last person he expected - Audrey Hayburth, a Slytherin girl who was well-known in their year for being the strong silent type who typically held her to own little group. The second time, waffles were served for the second day in a row, which until then had been something unheard of in the previous three years of his Hogwarts education. The third time, he got a ‘P’ on his attempt at a Girding Potion, the worst grade he’d ever received in the subject before or since. The fourth time, he had witnessed a large group of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors trip and end up in a giant heap near the top of the stairs.

It was anyone’s guess what would happen today.

Cyrus flexed his leg, rotating his foot in a circle to see if it hurt; there was a mild ache, but no sharp twinges, which meant he was saved a visit to the Hospital Wing, and now he wouldn’t be as late to breakfast as he thought. Figures that Stan and Nolan would leave the common room without him – no doubt to use as much time as possible to catch up on the Transfiguration essay that the three of them had put off all week. That was alright, really, as they would generally help whoever wasn’t done anyway, and Stan read the fastest.

He didn’t go very far when his bag slipped from his shoulder and split apart, leaving his ink pots to roll away as his books hit the ground with the sort of heavy _thwap_ that implied he was going to have a bunch of crinkled pages and several loose spines. Sure enough, as he picked the one off the top of the pile, the cover slipped away from half the pages. _Well, this is it -_ _Madam Pince is going to kill me._

“Oh _god damn it!”_ a familiar voice exclaimed behind him.

Professor Flemming was on the stairs behind him with one foot sunk into the steps. Professor Platts was beside her, glancing quickly at him before looking back at the Defense professor with a slightly fretful look. “Dandrane, there’s a _student_ here,” he chastised quietly with an annoyed frown; not that it did much good, the castle’s foyer always echoed, and Cyrus would have heard the wizard even if he had been whispering.

The pink-haired witch grumbled something that sounded a lot like “fucking _stairs_ ” before using two hands to pull her leg out of the invisible hole. “I keep forgetting about that stupid hole,” she glowered down at the step as if her insult would teach it some manners.

Cyrus stacked all his books into a pile with a wave of his wand and set about magically sewing his bag back together, watching the thread stemming from his wand make a zig-zag pattern within the material.

“And here I thought you were in a better mood today,” Professor Platts said with a sort of playful sarcasm, his light Scottish accent as prevalent as ever.

“Oh _please_ , the stairs _wish_ they could sink me down to that level.”

There was a pause, and both Cyrus and Professor Platts expressed distaste at the pun; except whereas Cyrus rolled his eyes and felt his mouth twist into a minor grimace, Platts groaned in mild disgust: “That’s _terrible_.”

Flemming just laughed, but it stopped when she caught sight of him. “Oh – Cyrus! You drop something?”

The teenage Ravenclaw shrugged, holding up his almost-fixed bag. “Had an accident.” Professor Platts pulled out his wand to summon the unbreakable ink bottles and quills that had lay scattered on the floor.

“So I see,” Flemming said with a laugh, picking up the now-damaged library book on the top of his pile. “Madam Pince is gonna kill you, you know,” she commented with a somewhat wicked grin.

There was no doubt in Cyrus’ mind that Professor Flemming was more than a bit off. Not only did she address her students by her first name - the only adult in the school to do so, which took some getting used to - but she almost always acted like she was the older kid put in charge of a class. She’d let students get away with swearing and using spell-checking quills in class and only kept their toys until the end of the period, but made use of her authority by employing an anti-cheating rug that watched them at all times and made sure people adhered to her classroom rules like paste on paper.  He still remembered when poor Diana Tarquin suffered the humiliation of having to give a speech on wand safety in front of the class after carelessly twirling her wand in-between her fingers; Cyrus found this odd, as he noticed the professor often kept her own wand in her sleeve and had a habit of using that arm to point or gesture to the blackboard or cabinets.

And now, she was openly needling him, like his older brother Felix would. “I know,” he said, looking down at his stitch-work. Odds were she would try to lead him to the answer without actually giving it. She tried to do that in her lectures, only confirming or denying students responses instead of just giving them a conclusion until she was sure no one could answer properly. He normally liked that method, as it made him think about the theories behind everything they learned and not just simple facts, but he had already had enough trouble and just wanted to eat like everyone else. “You wouldn’t happen to know-?”

It was too late – she had already slid out her wand from the sleeve of her very red suit-jacket and was in the process of poking it at the book. The cover slid firmly back into place, the pages re-gluing themselves to the spine where she had nudged it. Professor Flemming handed it back to him with a sort of cocky little grin. “Nothing like a good _adhaero_ to keep a book from falling apart, am I right? A minor ironing spell should take care of those,” she said, pointing to the wrinkled pages of his copy of  A History of Magic .

“ _Collaevo_ , you mean,” Platts added, flicking his wand at the stack of books, causing the crinkled pages to flatten automatically. Cyrus had the distinct impression that the Defense professor was rolling her eyes behind her small ever-present sunglasses. “Missing anything else, Mr. Hemingr?” The Transfiguration professor beamed down with a smile that normally made half the female student body go all a dither. It was hard not to see why, really, as Platts looked like he could’ve been one of Godric’s sons in another time.

“No, sir. Thank you.”

“Oh, you’re reading up on Animagi, I see!” The Transfiguration teacher gestured to the copy of  The Animagus Principle  Cyrus was putting back in his bag. “That’s much more advanced than what I’m teaching you now. A special interest?”

Professor Flemming gave a little wave to Cyrus, as if to say she was heading off, and continued to make her way to the Great Hall, her heels clicking on the stone floor as she whistled a tune he was positive he had heard floating around in the castle before. It took another moment before they followed her, Platts chatting about Animagi along the way.

Normally, Cyrus would’ve found this very interesting, but they were walking so slowly in comparison to Flemming that he was sure all the bacon would be stone cold before he reached his usual seat, and the both the sight of new Christmas decorations and the heavenly aroma of breakfast were very distracting.

What was moreso, though, was how Professor Flemming had stopped smack-dab in the middle of the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables. Something – maybe it was in the air, or in the way Flemming stood, he wasn’t sure – felt tense. Professor Flemming looked down at the Gryffindor table, right at the head of a fifth-year girl with very wavy brown hair (wasn’t she Diana’s older sister? What was her name again…?).

In all the time he had been in Flemming’s classroom, he had never once seen her angry. Annoyed, disbelieving, and mildly upset with good reason, sure – but never truly _angry_. He saw familiar red patches bloom on her cheeks, set under very furrowed brows, and now her mouth was in a sort of restrained scowl; it was the same look his father got when he was biting back his urge to yell in an argument with Felix.

Professor Flemming said something - and whatever it was must’ve surprised Miss Tarquin to a great degree, because the fifth-year Gryffindor jumped in her seat and went incredibly red – and continued to glare until the girl stood up from her seat in the clumsy, fumbling fashion of someone who had been caught red-handed. There was more than a few puzzled look thrown their way from the Gryffindor table, but a couple of Hufflepuffs that had a good view were watching with interest, too.

It would’ve been normal to see a teacher and student pair walk toward them at another time, if it hadn’t been for Diane’s sister looking as nervous and embarrassed as she was, coupled with the witch that seemed to tower over her looking like she was struggling to keep calm. Professor Platts asked what was wrong; the young girl gave a fleeting look up at him before looking more towards her feet.

Flemming’s voice was quiet, but stable and steely: “You will accompany me to your office, _now_.” There was no room for discussion in that tone.

“Oh… Very well. Another time, then, Hemingr.”

Cyrus stepped aside, letting the three pass, catching a fleeting glimpse from the older Gryffindor; an unspoken plea for help was in that glance, but there was no use. The Great Hall continued its morning chatter, the majority of it oblivious to what had transpired.

The fourth-year Ravenclaw looked to take his usual seat next to Stan, who was pouring over his Transfiguration book, his eyes rapidly scanning the pages. Nolan, on the other hand, was seemingly re-reading his half-complete essay, but Cyrus knew better. Sure enough, as soon as Cyrus plopped himself onto the bench, Nolan, without looking up at him, spoke:  “What was all that about?”

“I don’t know,” Cyrus answered truthfully, no longer feeling very hungry. His curiosity was peaked, and usually that meant he’d research whatever he could as soon as he could. _This_ , though, was an entirely social matter and thus depended on a matter of time rather than resources.

Nolan glanced up, looking more like a Slytherin than a Ravenclaw at that moment. “ _Sure_ you do. What did Professor Flemming say to Platts?”

“They’re all going to his office.” Cyrus grabbed a piece of toast off the rack in front of him, reminding himself that calories would help him think in any case. “I’ve never seen her that angry before.”

“You know, neither have I, and _I_ witnessed her giving Marconi a week’s detention for calling Ansaldi a _you-know-what_ ; I _still_ remember him complaining about having to read The Purity Lie. What do you think could be worse?”

“Hey, that book was _good!”_ Stan finally looked up from his reading, apparently just now beginning to pay attention.

“No, you dope, not the _book_ ,” Nolan said as pushed his thin silver glasses up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger. “I meant what could Francine have done that was worse than insulting a person’s lineage with the worst slur imaginable?”

“Wait, what did Francine do?” Stan asked, looking over at the Gryffindor table. “What happened?”

“That’s what we’re trying to _figure out_ , genius,” Nolan grumbled, slumping in his seat.

“There’s no point talking about it now,” Cyrus said, spreading blackcurrant preserves on his toast. “We won’t know what happened until she comes out of the Gryffindor office. She’s bound to tell Diane at some point.”

“Ugh, who _knows_ how long that could take?” Nolan griped, stabbing his sausages with a little more force than necessary.

Stan hummed, closing his text and pulling his half-eaten plate forward. “Come on, Nolan, cheer up; it’s not like we’ve got clones that can listen at the door for us or anything.”

Cyrus would’ve loved to challenge that, but Stan was right. Until he became an animagus – and God willing, someday he _would_ be – there was no way he could listen at a teacher’s door without being caught.

Just as he chewed the third bite of toast, it hit him – _he_ couldn’t stand inconspicuously outside of Platt’s door, but a _Gryffindor_ could.

*~*~*~*~*

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Stan said, straightening his newly red-and-gold school tie. “Can you two really not wait a _day?”_

“No,” Nolan and Cyrus replied together.

“Well I know why _you’re_ doing this, Nolan,” Stan chided, glancing at their gossip-prone friend before turning his gaze back on Cyrus, “but I don’t understand why _you’re_ so keen on it.”

“It happened right in front of me, Stan, and I don’t know what it even _was_ , but I _want_ to know. You don’t have to come along if you don’t want to...”

Stan frowned. “I’m not leaving you two alone! We’re the three musketeers, aren’t we?”

Nolan smirked at him, but it was affectionate. “Are you sure you’re not a _real_ Gryffindor, Stan?”

“I built a radio from scratch and tuned it to muggle radio towers for our common room, something _no one else_ in our house has accomplished so far,” Stan said matter-of-factly. “Or do you think a _Gryffindor_ could understand such complex magical circuitry?”

“Come _on_ , I was _kidding_ ,” Nolan briefly rolled his eyes to the ceiling, but he was still grinning.

Cyrus pulled a flesh-colored string from his pocket. “Now remember, guys - if we hear this knight’s axe hit the floor, we continue down the hall like nothing ever happened. Until then, we keep the Extendable Ears to the keyhole.”

“I still don’t know where you got the money for three of these, Nolan,” Stan muttered as he glanced down the hall towards Professor Platts’ office.

“Well, I borrowed _one_ , and I found an extra in my trunk yesterday, so I really just had to re-buy mine last week. I don’t know why Trelawney even bothered to confiscate my last one – you think she’d know I was just going to replace it by now.”

Cyrus and Stan couldn’t help but snicker a little, but they made their way to the office door in otherwise complete silence. Cyrus felt the guilt of even going through with this ridiculous idea begin to itch at his head. What if they were caught by a teacher? What if either professor opened the door suddenly, or found out they were there? What if a house ghost – or worse, Peeves – caught them?

No. There was no use worrying about that, they had it set up perfectly so that someone coming in either direction wouldn’t be close enough to recognize them by the time they their backs turn the corner. They would no doubt hear the professors or Francine coming towards the door. The house ghosts were in or around the Great Hall as they were want to do and Peeves was probably skulking around there waiting to harass people on their way to class. They would be _fine_.

Cyrus took a slow breath and plugged one end of the peachy string into his ear and the other into the keyhole, his friends strings not far behind. Suddenly, it was like he was right next to Professor Flemming.

“I don’t care if she’s not in ‘my house’, _Platts_ . What she did is a _clear_ violation of another student’s rights.”

“It doesn’t warrant _suspension_!” Professor Platts replied in a raised voice.

“Oh, I see.” The Professor’s voice was like an executioner’s axe; foreboding and sharp, with a cold edge. “Would you say the same if she were a _boy?”_

“It’s not _about_ that! It’s her first offense, for Merlin’s sake! She hasn’t even had a chance to defend herself!”

There was a brief moment of silence. “Do you understand why I brought you here, Ms. Tarquin?”

Francine sniffed. “Yes.”

“Why is that?”

“I… I broke a school rule.” Francine’s voice was becoming higher and wobbly; she was definitely on the verge of tears, if she hadn’t been crying already. “I-I know I shouldn’t have bought it, but...”

“This is about more than just breaking a school rule!” Flemming shouted, and there came a dull _thud_ , like something had fallen off a desk and hit carpet.

“Miss Flemming, _calm_ _yourself!”_

A heavy _clang_ broke the air, and for a wild moment Cyrus thought that Professor Flemming had stricken a real axe on the ground - it was the suit of armor they had set up down the hall. The three boys broke away from the door and immediately started walking away as fast as they could. Cyrus’s heart was pounding. He almost wanted to turn his head and see who had interrupted them, but he was already slow enough with his hurt ankle…

“Oi, Cyrus!” A boisterous voice called from a little ways behind them.

The blond boy turned, recognizing the voice instantly – Felix was quickly walking towards them, looking as lively as ever. The Ravenclaw tried his best to communicate with his brother silently that he shouldn’t be talking, but Felix only faltered for a second.

“Woah, what’s the big idea? When did you switch hou-”

“ _SHH_ !” Nolan hissed, waving his hands in front of his face. “Keep _quiet_!”

“They’ll hear you!” Stan whispered urgently, pointing at the door not far away.

Felix stared at them for a moment, then cast a glance at Platt’s office door. Comprehension dawned on him, and he gave the trio a proud, sly grin. “ _Spyin’_ , eh?”

Cyrus put his finger to his lips, hoping that Felix would lower his voice a bit more. Instead, his older brother shooed them into the far corner to talk.

“Not every day I catch you spying on my head of house, Cy’. Is it somethin’ juicy?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out, actually,” Nolan grumbled, looking past them all towards the Gryffindor office with a sort of longing.

“Professor Flemming’s in there,” Stan said seriously, staring right into the older brother’s bright green eyes.

“What, they’re havin’ a shag or somethin’?” He looked even more proud, and gave a low whistle. “Didn’t think you lot were voyeurs!”

Nolan all but slapped his palm on his face. “ _No_ , you moron! There’s a _student_ with them!”

“Don’t take that tone with me, kid. You may be Cyrus’ friend, but I’m still Quidditch Captain. I’ve got _authority_ here.”

“What does Quidditch have to do with-?! _Ugh_ , I don’t know _how_ you’re related to Cyrus!”

“Felix,” Cyrus said gently, “we just wanted to know what Francine did to make Professor Flemming mad.”

Felix stared at his younger brother with complete disinterest. “What’s so important about her being mad? It’s probably just her time of the month.”

Stan stared disbelievingly at the seventh-year. “You’ve never had a class with her, have you?”

“Nah, don’t need Defense for _my_ job,” Felix said arrogantly. Stan muttered something along the lines of ‘what, janitorial work?’, but Felix didn’t seem to notice. “Though I kinda wish I did this year. Real _looker_ , that one.”

“She’s never been this angry, Felix,” Cyrus explained, “not _ever_. That’s why we’re here.”

“Oh. Well then, I guess I’ll have to join you! Besides,” he smirked down at the three boys, “if someone comes along, it’ll look more convincing with a real well-known Gryffindor walking you away, right?”

Felix wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, and he could be reckless and a little lazy, but despite what Nolan and Stan thought of him, he was still Cyrus’ brother. He tended have good ideas _some_ times.

The four of them crept back to the door, the three Ravenclaws listening back at the keyhole with their Extendable Ears and as Felix pressed his ear against his brother’s, having to stoop over awkwardly. It wasn’t the first time they’d shared an Extendable Ear.  

“-and I forbid you to owl-order any more Weasley products for the rest of the school year,” Platt said, disappointment bordering his words. “You will not be able to visit Hogsmeade this month, and you will furthermore serve two weeks detentions.”

“That’s not _enough_ ,” Flemming’s voice cut in.

“You have no authority over my house, Flemming! You cannot add more punishments to my final word!”

“Fine.” Cyrus shivered. The witch’s voice was smooth, but it seemed to carry the heavy promise of retribution. “Despite my feelings about this, I am not unfair, Miss Tarquin. You’re grades will not suffer for this. But I’m warning you -” her voice grated dangerously, and Cyrus was reminded of Darth Vader reprimanding Admiral Ozzel, “if I catch you trying this _ever again_ , I will personally drag you before the Misuse of Magic Office and let the courts decide. If you truly don’t realize the impact of what you’ve tried to do, pick up  Two Years Under . That should give you a clue.”

With that final venomous word, there came the sound of a chair scraping harshly against stone.

“ _Cyrus-!_ ” Nolan whispered harshly; even without the warning, Cyrus knew that now was the time to move. The four boys scurried down the hall, being careful to make the least amount of noise as possible.

“ _What_ was all that about?” Felix finally voiced as they started to ascend the moving staircase.

“I dunno… Stan, you ever hear of Two Years Under?” Cyrus turned to the slightly shorter brunet as he changed his tie color back to blue and bronze.

“No… Sounds like one of those young adult novels at my village’s corner shop.”

“God, you know what that reminded me of, Cy’? That one part in _Empire_ … I mean, talk about _intimidating_ …”

“I know… I’ve never heard her get like that before.” Cyrus glanced over at Nolan, wanting to ask what he thought, but Nolan was looking particularly contemplative. Cyrus was used to seeing this face – it was the same one Nolan wore when he was translating runes. It was best to leave him be for the moment…

“Wait, where’re we going? I’ve got Charms, but don’t you lot have Transfiguration first?”

“We’ve got half an hour. I’m going to look in the library,” Stan said plainly, as if it were the most obvious thing the world. “You two coming?”

Cyrus nodded, half his mind on what happened back in the hall, but the other remembering he had homework to finish and there’d be no better opportunity.

“Well, it beats sitting around the Charms corridor, I guess,” Felix sighed, following them up to the fourth floor.

“Why were you on the first floor anyway, Felix?”

“Oh, I wanted to talk to Platt’s about booking the field for practice. I s’pose it’s a good thing I ran into you guys, or else I’d be facing a _literal_ lion’s den. Good luck having to deal with Platts after he had to go through _that_.”

“He’s an _adult_ , I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Stan said offhandedly.

Felix frowned, looking oddly thoughtful. “I dunno, if Mum taught us anythin’, it was not to get on the bad side of a lady. And you heard what Flemmin’ sounded like… Fit bird or not, I’d bet anythin’ she was threatenin’ one of ‘em with a wand at the end, there.”

The smash of plaster on stone startled them out of their thoughts.

“What was that?”

“Looks like Trefle-Picques' bust fell over again...”

“Oh…” Nolan muttered aloud, his hazel eyes widening. “ _Deux ans sous_ …”

Cyrus raised a brow, not quite understanding the sudden language change. “Er, come again?”

“ Deux Ans Sous  . That was the book Professor Flemming mentioned – just in _English_.”

“So…?”

“My mother got it for her book club last summer. I borrowed it…” Nolan looked strangely far away at that moment, and he fell into a short silence. “You know, I think we should just stay quiet about this.”

Stan looked completely taken aback. “After all that _trouble_ ? Why? Are you _feeling_ ok?”

“Yeah, spill the beans, kiddo!”

“Well, it’s not exactly…age-appropriate.” Nolan shot a reproachful look at Felix. “Especially for the _immature_. Let’s find a quiet table, I feel weird discussing this out here.”

As the group made their way to the library, Cyrus heard an odd _whoosh_ of air behind him, and one curious glance down the hallway confirmed his suspicions of what broke the plaster bust.

It was kind of comforting, really, that despite the strange events that occurred after falling in the trick step, the resident poltergeist would always be the most predictable, never-changing thing at Hogwarts.

*~*~*~*~*

Peeves raced through the castle halls, his mind whirling with an eagerness he hadn’t felt in ages.

The prospect of _Dandrane_ – tall, cool-headed Dandrane – being mad enough to be violent towards another teacher thrilled him. He’d pay galleons to see it happen, or at the very least see her still near that level of anger; hopefully, he’d get a front row seat for free when he found her. Those kiddies really played up how upset she was, and he was hoping beyond reason that she’d let some of it loose in her quarters. Even if she didn’t, just learning the whole story would be enough to sate him. Even part of it would be fine - as long as she was the one telling him.

The poltergeist felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he entered the second floor – bits of magic were scattered in the air before him. That was a good sign by itself, but the fact that it felt red-hot was even better. And _oh_ , that magic…

It wasn’t quite a particular smell or taste that let him know it was her; her magical signature – essence, aura, whatever you wanted to call it, really – just had a certain _je ne sais quoi_ about it. It was something he felt he’d never mix up for anyone else’s. He wasn’t even sure how to explain _that_.

The heat in the hallway seemed to build the closer he got to Dandrane’s door. The magic in Peeves’ own body started to hum under his skin a little, as it always did when presented with a large amount of new energy in one place. He took a deep breath, savoring the mild lung-burning feeling that emitted from the witch’s room. _Ohh_ , there was _so much_ of it…

He slipped through her door all at once, feeling the wards pass over him like a quick gentle pet, and he was suddenly engulfed in a mass of rage-fueled magic, as if he had stepped right into a bonfire pit. It was _every_ where, from the broken bottles near the fireplace to the mass of books that seemed to have been thrown all at once from their spots on the shelves. It seemed the witch had conjured plates to break, too, as there was quite a bit of unfamiliar broken white china littering the carpet. There were even some cracks in the windows that made it seem like the glass was starting to buckle under the stone. Loose papers of various size and age littered the floor among items that usually sat on her desk, and the only thing sitting left untouched there was her glasses, which sat upside down and open.

And of course, in the middle of it all, with the largest concentration of magic seeming to hover above her barely-visible head, sat Dandrane Flemming. Peeves could hardly contain himself; he wanted to lay in the air above her and revel in the sheer amount of pure, unfiltered magic around him, but there was no way he could resist talking to her when she was like _this_.

Peeves floated towards her, feeling the air around him gradually get warmer as the closer he came to the head of spiky pink hair; she seemed to be sitting on the floor behind the desk, despite her chair being perfectly fine, just pushed towards the other door. His body was brimming with energy, and just looking at her gave him the urge to just rush to her and kiss her before she could do anything. He bit his lip, the vision of such an act almost overcoming him. He almost didn’t care what happened afterwards.

 _Almost_.

He bent over the desk so he was practically laying over it on his stomach next to her. “Morning, _Phlegmy_.”

The witch turned towards him with a start, her blue eyes wild. Her hair was a lot messier up close; it looked like she might have cried at one point, too. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, and she had been resting her arms on them; he saw the muscles stiffen in response to her name. A whiff of alcohol and burning cloth hit his nostrils.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” he teased.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dandrane half-shouted.

“Heard you flipped your lid at a teacher earlier.”

She eyed him warily. “…who told you that?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just a couple of little birdies.”

“So what, you came to get the full story?” The witch sneered, glowering at him.

“Not really,” he purred, loving every second of this. “That’d be just icing on the cake. I really just wanted to see _you_.”

She seemed to search his eyes, as if she were scouring for any hint of dishonesty. Peeves stared back, grinning wide as she seemed to soften her demeanor. “Why?”

“Because you impress me.” Frankly, he _was_ impressed, but it would be weird to just say he got excited at the prospect of her being upset. It wasn’t exactly flattering, so he opted for the safer answer.

“… _how_?” She grimaced, looking confused.

“How? How _else?”_ Peeves felt his excitement grow impossibly more as he rolled off the desk and moved to float in front of her, magic buzzing in his ears. “ _Look_ at this!” he gestured grandly to the complete mess of the room. “This is _amazing_!”

Rather than be pleased at the praise, Dandrane started to look disturbed, and even angry. Even in his close proximity, it was hard to tell exactly what she was feeling with the amount of her magic sitting in the air. “This isn’t something to be _proud_ of! This -” She cut herself off, flinching and looking at the floor instead, seeming to glower mildly at it. “It’s _pathetic_.”

Peeves couldn’t help but giggle, and it sounded insane even to his own ears. He couldn’t quite help it; he was torn between desire and reason, wanting desperately at that moment to kiss her and cling to her like tomorrow wouldn’t exist, but knowing full well that it was a stupid idea. “Are you kidding me? I’ve only had _tastes_ of your magic before! This is like you’ve given me a complete buffet where you used to give out samples! It’s _incredible_!”

“It’s _not_ ,” she growled, turning a steely gaze to him, the blues of her eyes piercing him like knives. “It’s not at _all!_ Don’t you _get_ that?! _Look_ at this place!” Her voice was almost shouting now, jabbing a hand towards a slightly smoking piece of furniture near the fireplace. “Look at what I’ve _done_ , you asshole! That was ME! I did that, all because I couldn’t CONTROL myself!” Tears, angry and distraught and fresh, were brimming at her eyes. “I do this _every fucking time!_ I’m-! I’m-!”

The tears spilled over her cheeks, and as she grit her teeth, he watched her shoulders start to quiver as she struggled to hold herself together. It didn’t last long, and she buried her head in her hands as she gave a horrible choking noise, and when she spoke again her voice came out quiet and strangled. “Fuck, I’m stupid…”

Peeves wasn’t quite sure what to do. His usual enjoyment of people being in complete despair was there, but the very unfamiliar and disturbing feeling of not wanting to see this accompanied it. It was so horribly conflicting, both enjoying and disliking the sight of her crying in front of him… So he just floated there, watching her, taking every last drop of magic he could get, digging his fingernails into his palms to stop himself from doing anything foolish.

“You’d think… You’d think after fifteen years it wouldn’t bother me as much anymore,” Dandrane said with something like a cross between a heaving breath and a laugh. “God, _I’m_ pathetic.” She wiped the tracks of tears away with the back of her hand, finally looking at him again. “I’m sorry. I’m the real ass here…” Her eyes trailed back to the broken glass that lay against the opposing wall. “I just - I just didn’t want you seeing me like this.” He didn’t quite know why, but he felt minute strands of anger stemming from her again. “It’s a bit late now, I guess.”

Dandrane was staring at the shards of glass, the remains of a red wine bottle she must have smashed against the wall. Judging by the impact, it looked like she had thrown it at close proximity, and guessing by the fresh spatters on her white sleeves, it had been the last thing she’d done before he came in.

Even as magic swam through his head and the angry feelings above them continued to fester in the air, Peeves couldn’t help but admire her. No matter what mood she was in, she was so damn _pretty_ , and he kept _noticing_ things. Small things that kept drawing his attention the past few times he’d seen her. How slow or fast her breaths were. How she knotted her boot-laces. How straight she kept her collars and what color tie she was wearing. How her hair looked wet and slicked back sloppily from the shower…

Now he remembered what her breasts looked like, too. He couldn’t help but glance at her chest now. He had the urge to yank her red satin tie, like he often did with such things that dangled in front of him, but like always Dandrane somehow twisted his ordinary desire to annoy into something else - he wanted to pull her to him by the end of that damn tie, just to get as close as possible to that perfect mouth of hers…

“You’re eating all of this, aren’t you?” Dandrane’s voice drifted into his ears.

“Mm- _hmm_.”

“Knew it.” Dandrane sighed, tilting her head back and exposing more of her pale neck. “Can you promise me you’ll eat all of it?”

‘Promise’ was something dangerous all on it’s own; magical contracts could be made verbally, unwittingly, depending on the person’s choice of words. In this case, though… Well, it was a promise he’d actually _do_.

“Yes.”

She shifted her legs, stretching one leg out and keeping the other knee propped up, her arm still resting on it. She looked at him, looking more tired than he first realized, and patted the spot on the floor next to her. “Come sit with me.”

She didn’t need to tell him twice.

Peeves settled down next to her, watching her with a grin as he got as close as he could, daring to rest his head on her shoulder. He felt like he was leering at her without meaning to, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t care, as she went back to looking at the opposite wall.

He didn’t mind. She was so warm, and all that magic was flowing into him made it feel like he was pressed up against an oven door in the winter. He really wanted to wrap his arm around hers, like he did back in the Underground. He wondered:  if he could absorb this much magic from leaning against her, what would happen the more contact they made? Could he absorb everything at once, like a sponge?

“Peeves… If I tell you what happened, you’d take everything as it came, right?”

“I’ll take it _all_ ,” he purred, meaning every bit of the lecherous undertone in his voice. “Just _give it_ to me.”

Dandrane gave a short chuckle. “If you put it that way…” She snickered a bit into her hand, looking away from him only for as long as the laugh lasted, and then returned her gaze to her lap. “You have to promise not to say anything about what I tell you. Under any circumstances.” Her blue eyes locked on him, but they looked more dejected than piercing. “Even if McGonagall asks you. Can you promise that?”

Normally, the answer would be no. He let loose all kinds of dirty details about people’s frivolous conversations before, usually if they were kids. This was one of those times - and he had quite a few of them, to be honest - when he knew he should keep his mouth shut. Even if he _wasn’t_ incredibly interested, she was being open with him, and that was something that no living human being ever even _considered_ doing in hundreds of years. “That serious, eh?”

“...I don’t want anyone else knowing things about my personal life they don’t need to know.”

 _Anyone else_. Peeves repeated it in his head a few times. He was special, in other words. “‘Course.”

Dandrane’s gaze hardened. “If you say anything, I’ll shrivel your tongue into a husk and never speak to you again, you know.”

“I won’t.” He leaned against her as much as he could, deciding to look at her legs instead of constantly gawking at her face. He’d never thought a woman could look this good in yellow slacks before; it was like some kind of joke. “So what made you jump off your trolley?”

Dandrane took a deep breath, and as she released it, the poltergeist felt more new strands of anger sink into his skin. He found himself staring right back at her pink, plump lips with the powerful urge to kiss her. The tether on his self-restraint was going to snap if he wasn’t careful.

“…you know what _amortentia_ is, right?”

 _Odd way to start off a conversation_. “Love potion...?”

“Yeah. The most powerful one in the world. You ever see that stuff up close? Enough to put your nose near it?” There was a fire in her gaze and a good amount of distaste in her voice.

“No. Never around in the dungeons when they brew that sort of thing.”

She stared at him. “Not once? In a thousand years of being here?”

Peeves took a bit to think, trying to remember fun times in the dungeons. He was fairly good about keeping away from in-progress classes, but he did like to linger out in halls or behind doors, and he could vaguely recall voices _talking_ about the stuff before… Any potions he nicked were always from less experienced classes, all usually from teachers who foolishly left things out in the open. “Don’t think so.”

“Consider yourself lucky.” Bitterness weighed down her voice, she got a sort of funny looking sneer. “You can never forget what you smelled after being near that stuff, you know. Not _ever._ You can go years without smelling that shit, but one whiff and you know _exactly_ what it is. Even the weaker varieties are noticeable, because it takes the strongest scent you like and shoves it up your nose like one of those little iron pokers.” She sounded a little frantic, and her eyes, though not on him, were wild again. “And I had to feel that again, just by standing in the middle of the Great Hall. Some kid had uncorked this little flask and was holding it under the table, waiting for her crush to turn his head so she could slip it in his drink.”

More magic, angry and sickened, sank through the cloth separating them. The poltergeist suppressed another shudder at the heat blooming at the spots their bodies touched.

“I just… I almost lost it, right there in the Hall. You ever see someone take that stuff before?” She turned her whole head to him. “You’ve probably heard people _giggling_ about it.” She spat the word ‘giggling’ like it was poisonous. The fire in her eyes blazed on, like she was daring him to contradict her. “Like it’s _funny_ . Like fucking around with people’s brains is meant for a _laugh_.”

Peeves couldn’t look away from her, but short memories quickly played in his mind’s eye. Not long ago, a group of Gryffindor girls in the library were talking about spiking something for Harry Potter, laughing the way only excited teenage girls could. Further back, two boys discussed how to get their hands on some, as it was their last resort. Further still, there was an Easter where it seemed half the castle had paired off somehow after eating a batch of chocolate eggs put innocently on the house tables that morning…

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t. It’s the same everywhere you go; you tell a witch or wizard that it’s the most vile and dangerous potion known to man and they laugh you off the street.” She started accentuating words with waves of her hands. “Like it’s _nothing_ . Like the poisoned party is just supposed to accept what happened and move along like it was some kind of _innocent_ thing. It makes me _sick_."

It was said with the sort disgust that held years of anger and unspoken sadness that made him feel peculiar. It had struck a chord. A horrible, _horrible_ chord.

Dandrane was just sitting there, looking far away, like she was lost in a thought or a memory, and suddenly blinked, looking away like she was ashamed. “Sorry. Maybe that was too personal.”

Now that he thought of it… He hadn’t had a single conversation like this in a long, long, _long_ time. With a living person, no less. She was… She was just _telling_ him this, like she thought it was ok to do so. Like she _trusted_ him. Like he was a _person_.

 “… You were given some, then?” He knew he didn’t need to ask, but he figured she wouldn’t fess up otherwise. He felt a craving for more. He wanted to know everything, as long as it was only for him to hear.

“Yeah. I was.” Dandrane paused, turning to him again and asking in a somewhat less grim tone: “So...are you in close enough range, here?”

Oh no. No, no, _no_ . She wasn’t going to get away this time. Not _now_ . “No,” Peeves grinned a little, making a show of pressing further against her arm. Even if he was feeling a little sorry for her, he wasn’t going to stop himself from taking what advantages he could. He wanted, no, _needed_ to be as close as possible. “Not _nearly_.”

“Can you sit on my lap?” She was already straightening out her other leg, shifting her arms to make room for him. She actually _wanted_ him to sit there.

He didn’t care how risky it was for him. He wanted this, possibly more than anything before. “The V.I.P. seat, eh?”

Something in her expression faltered, like she didn’t like the way he phrased it. “Yeah... V.I.P.”

Peeves had practically thrown his legs over her thighs before she had time to change her mind. Bodyheat sank into him, soaking through every layer of clothes he had, and without warning he leaned back against her shoulder as much as he could, feeling the muscles in her legs and collar-bone and every part of her torso that pressed against him. She smelled incredible; a mix of sweat and faded perfume and hairspray. He could feel her breasts move with each breath, and he couldn’t help but enjoy the sensation, if not just because he could imagine it later in a much different context. With just over half of the remaining magic left over their heads, and his own magic humming like no tomorrow as Dandrane’s magic joined his, Peeves wondered if he’d ever feel this incredible ever again.

Much like the fireplace incident, Peeves knew how aroused he was getting. Except now he had nothing to laugh at to distract himself; it was just them and her story. No matter what, he wanted to watch her as it unfolded, even if there was the risk of him getting swept away in the moment. Kind of how it was since he made that first deal with her, really...

“…you sure you’re okay like this?”

“Mm-hmm.” He was, _truly_ he was. He felt a little nervous and halfway to getting a proper tent pitched, but he was more okay than he’d ever been, probably. After all, if chaotic emotions weren’t his element, then what was? “Are _you?_ ”

“Yeah. I’m not as mad as I was before. You really _are_ just absorbing it all, aren’t you?”

“Mm- _hmm_.” If he was honest, he was beginning to feel like a teabag in a kettle. He wasn’t going to tell her that, though. “Go on with your story, Phlegmy.”

“Right…” The witch sighed a little, taking a minute to prepare herself. “So I brought the kid to Platt’s office and asked her what she thought she was doing spiking someone’s food. She didn’t seem to understand why I was so upset, but _man…_ You would’ve killed to be there, I bet.” Dandrane snorted, smirking at him a little. “She started crying her eyes out, and of course Platts just told us to take a seat and asked me what happened. I told him what she was carrying, and he just gets this stupid look on his face-” The witch changed from her frustrated expression to something more mockingly dumbfounded. “Like, ‘that’s all? That’s why you pulled me from my sausages?’ Like, _fuck_ , man, this is more important than a _fucking coronary_!”

Peeves couldn’t help but giggle.

“So _then_ , the stupid chick basically says that she knew she was here for breaking a rule, and she shouldn’t have even _bought_ the shit, and I go off on her - until Platts just _silences_ me.”

“Huh?”

Fresh rage poured out from her ribs, even as she looked away - like she was _ashamed_ . “He used _silencio_ on me. He actually _forced_ me to be quiet.”

Peeves blinked, not quite sure he was hearing that correctly. Nathanial Platts silenced her. Never, in any year he’d privied teacher’s meetings, both formal and illicit, had he ever seen or heard of one teacher jinxing another like that. Formally dueling was one thing. Arguing was another. Unsolicited curses, though, were practically unheard of, outside of when Death Eaters had infiltrated the school.

Now _he_ was feeling pissed. He actually sat up, pulling away to look directly at her, just to make sure he heard that correctly. “He _what_.”

“Yeah! I’m surprised the fucking cocksucker had the balls to do that! Back home I could’ve _sued_ him for that! But _no_ , fucking _visa-user_ laws...” Dandrane took another deep breath, and reached her hand up to her hair and ran her fingers through it; the poltergeist watched, fleetingly wishing that she would do that to him instead. “I _was_ yelling a lot. I know I knocked his clock off his mantlepiece without meaning to. It _might_ have been warranted.”

 _Maybe_ , Peeves thought, _but I still won’t let him get away with that._

“So he asked her if she knew exactly what amortentia did, and explained why it was wrong in the most textbook way possible - I’m used to that, but it still pisses me off, so I had to sit there stewing in that for a while, too... I was given the countercurse after I put on my ‘calm face’ for more than a minute, and I gave my two cents on the matter, and then he decides to stop me _mid-sentence_ and dole out her punishment. I told him right off the bat that she should be expelled, but _nooo_ , apparently that’s too _harsh_ for a first-time offender. _Fuck_ that. Bitch is going to be hung by the goalposts if that boy’s friends find out about it anyway… Well, if they’re decent friends.”

The way she said it suggested that something like that had happened before. “So you’re friends were _decent_ , then?”

“More than decent. Piece of shit got the piss hexed out of him a few times. They had to be more careful after a while, though, when they started getting strikes on their record.” The witch gave a small, fond smile, accompanied by a tiny laugh. “I still remember Beatrice punching him in the jaw when she found out what happened. She knocked one of his teeth out - her proudest moment of the year. That was after I punched him in the stomach that morning, too...”

He honestly wanted to see that in action. He wanted to _be_ there. Not for the first time, he wished she kept memories in a pensieve. Peeves could picture her - the current her, as who the hell knew what she looked like at the time - drawing back her fist and _aiming_. He felt his own magic, already excited and running through him like little rivers, flow even faster.

He _really_ wanted to see that.

“Wasn’t much of a call for punishment for him, then?”

Dandrane looked down at him, her pretty face serious and hurt. “He got a week and a half in detention. Not even a notice to stay away from me. Just ‘oh, don’t do that again or we’ll be forced to take away your flying privileges.’” The bitter tone underlay her voice again, and even if he wasn’t absorbing anything, the poltergeist would still feel like he was lapping it up. “You know why I punched him?” She paused, but she wasn’t really waiting for him to say yes or no. “I was unwittingly drinking that potion for four days straight. You remember when you woke up in my room and thought we’d fooled around while you were drunk?”

Peeves winced, not wanting to remember that.

“It felt a lot like that. Only I _knew_ what he’d done to me. I remembered it. Thankfully, he only got to second base; any more and I would’ve killed him instead of just hitting him.”

No wonder she had been so upset with him that morning… He felt sickened at the thought of her going through the gross, violated feeling he had had, only hers had probably been amplified by ten. “And he only got _detention_?”

“Yup. Word got out about what happened, and he didn’t try anything like it again. Partly because most of the girls were keeping as far away from him as possible. Probably also because there was a gang of girls keeping a close watch on him for a while, too,” Dandrane grinned a little, and Peeves once again found himself imagining her punching the faceless guy with fervor. It was a nice thought.

“So what’d _the kid_ get?” It was so much...maybe _too_ much to take in all at once. He wanted to move to help get rid of the restless feeling in his legs.

“No Hogsmeade trips for two months, two weeks detentions, and she’s forbidden from ordering any more ‘Weasley’ products. Apparently they have a shop in London that sells this _Wonder Witch_ stuff, that’s how she got it. Like _that’d_ really stop her. She might just get her friends to buy it for her, or try to steal some from Horace… Guess it shows you the difference between an Auror’s mind and a teacher’s, huh?”

He had to admit, he was getting a little heady… There was just so much energy swirling around, both in him and the room, and all this new information was a little overwhelming in itself. It didn’t help that he still wanted to kiss her, either.

“So I left the office, came in here, and...well, you know the rest.” The witch gave a sort of sigh. “This is probably the worst I’ve let it go in a while. I came _this close_ ,” she squeezed her index finger and thumb together, “to drinking, too. Good thing I didn’t; I’m not a fun drunk when I’m this pissed off.”

“I’d pay to see that,” he said truthfully. He’d pay anything, _give_ anything, to see her in nearly every way he could. He’d memorize everything so he could replay it anytime he wanted in his head. Even if he wasn’t a poltergeist, and even if the payment was becoming nonexistent, he’d still do it, just to _know_.

“I wouldn’t let you,” she said seriously. “I don’t aim well drunk, let alone when I have an outburst. I mean, just look at my _chair_ ,” she said, pointing her thumb at the black armchair across the room - it had several large burn holes, and Peeves could see charred stuffing and splinters of wood inside. Next to it was a very broken chair that looked like someone had tried to blast to pieces. She must’ve conjured it, as the white one sat unharmed near the door. “This whole mess is just sad… God, what am I even doing?” She gave a sardonic laugh, and new magic, more sad than anything, leaked from her. “I still can’t control myself!” She laughed harder, trying to cover her face with her hand as her voice became more gurgled. “I-I mean, look at me - thirty and still crying over stuff like this…”

It was awkward, watching her break down slowly, cruelly laughing at herself as tears pricked the corners of her eyes and magic still flew into him, fresh and distraught. Peeves didn’t know what to do. What _could_ he do? He never comforted someone before.

“I-I’m sorry,” Dandrane sniffed, combing her hand through her hair. She looked like she was trying not to cry. “I didn’t want you seeing me like _this_ , either.”

He felt like he’d been kicked. He sat up straighter, turning so they could be face to face, wishing he was taller so they could see eye-to-eye rather than having to look up at her. “Don’t say that.”

She blinked, confusion growing on her face. “W-why? I mean, I know you’re having a feast here, but -”

“It’s not like that,” Peeves said suddenly, truth stumbling frantically out of his mouth before he could stop it. “I _like_ seeing you. I _want_ to see you.”

“...not just to gloat?”

“I wouldn’t come in here all the time just for that.” It was really weird, being this honest. He couldn’t think of anything else to say - it all just kept spilling out.

Dandrane laughed, light and a little gurgled. “All the time? You haven’t come by in over a week.” The witch seemed to slump more against the desk. “I kept hoping you’d just pop in.” Peeves felt his heart jolt. She _missed_ him. “You know… Despite all this crap...I’m glad you’re here, Peeves.”

The tether snapped. Self-control was gone.

He wasn’t quite sure what did it. Was it the warmth of her body? The magic stirring constantly in him, begging for movement as more magic kept flowing into him? The knowledge that she actually wanted him here with her? The look in her eyes?

Peeves didn’t know and couldn’t bother to care. He was hardly thinking - his fingers found her tie, curling themselves in the silky material and pulling slowly so she leaned towards him like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Maybe she was the one leaning into him.

An arm curled around his waist, and the next thing Peeves knew her lips were pressed against his, a searing warmth seeming to encompass his whole body as magic pumped hard through his veins. In a desperate grab for more, he leaned in with her, both of his arms wrapping themselves around her neck. Lips moved against his, so he mimicked it, not knowing what else to do, but not being able to think enough to do anything else.

All he knew was that he wanted more. A _lot_ more.

It took little effort to move his legs, and even less to move them through her until he was straddling her lap. He pressed against her, feeling her belt buckle press just above his hard-on as Dandrane’s other hand pushed him further by the middle of this back.

And then he felt her tongue slip between his teeth and roll gently, _teasingly_ , over his.

Peeves never felt like this before. It was like he was sinking into the floor, even though he knew very well he was still on the professor’s lap. He felt like he never wanted to stop, but at the same time he was far too caught up in the wonderful new sensations to move or do anything more than groan appreciatively into her mouth.  A coffee aftertaste mixed with something incredibly tingly on his tastebuds, and even in his daze he wondered if he wasn’t actually tasting bits of her magic somehow.

All that energy just kept flowing into him, faster and faster, as if amplified by the fact that he could smell and taste and feel the witch who caused it all. The poltergeist shuddered as Dandrane played around in his mouth; if this was what just making out with her was like, he had no problem letting her do whatever she wanted with him.

Her hands wandered low, past his hips...and squeezed.

It was like being shaken out of a nap - Peeves gave a sort of squeak, and the professor pulled away from him, her lips dark and moist, light dancing in her too-blue eyes.

“Did-did you just _squeal_?” She laughed; Peeves felt his face burn.

Dandrane sat there, chuckling and leaning back against the desk drawers as her hands moved to his thighs, burning a trail in their wake. The poltergeist felt too embarrassed to say anything; he _had_ squealed. He couldn’t help it if she surprised him, and even worse was that he _liked_ it.

“That was cute.” _Cute?!_ “I’m going to put that on my list of accomplishments -” she shut her eyes, as if imagining writing it down - “ _made powerful poltergeist squeal in delight by groping him_.”

“Oh, shut up,” Peeves glared, hating that he was being made fun of and praised at the same time but being unable to will himself to leave.

“Well, if it were another sort of day, I’d say ‘fuck you’, but it looks like you already want that, too.” She looked between them, gaze falling on his lap with a somewhat smug look.

“It’s your fault, you know,” he grumbled.

“Hm? Are you trying to tell me to take responsibility for it?” Her voice was low, sultry, and _dangerous_ \- Peeves was finding it hard to say anything, even as one of her hands creeped back up his thigh. “I _suppose_ I could...”

Her fingers were an inch away, and Peeves bit the inside of his lip, wishing she’d hurry up.

There was a strange knocking sound.At first, Peeves thought it was his imagination, and Dandrane paused, looking like she was listening for something miles away.

Knock, knock. _The front door._

The flush started to disappear from Dandrane’s cheeks, and she suddenly went wide-eyed, turning her head to face the office door as best she could. Still, her voice came out normally, despite the panic on her face - she probably practiced that voice a hundred times. “Who is it?”

“Ellsworth, Professor,” a young girl’s voice seemed to come from the shi statue next to the door. “I had questions about the end-of-term exam...”

“ _Shit_ ,” Dandrane muttered. “Damn shi must be sleeping again…” Peeves slipped off her lap and allowed her to stand, hearing some of her joints pop as she stood. “I’ll be out in a minute!”

The witch straightened her tie and grabbed her wand from the floor, and with both hands directed all the books to go back to the shelves. They went in one giant sweep, some being shoved in spine-in, and the pile of loose-leaf papers mangled with them and beyond made themselves into a neat pile at the foot of the bookcase. Another couple of waves and the pieces of conjured china were gone; the broken chairs disappeared along with the smashed bottles near the fireplace; the cracks in the window receded until there was nothing left but clear glass; the oil lamp, clock, and in-out tray went straight back to her desk as if nothing had happened.

Peeves watched, the air tingly with fresh bits of magic, as the pink-haired witch slid back into her suit jacket. Even now, with her hurried expression and messy hair and clear want to move as quick as possible, she did everything with a sort of graceful flash he couldn’t help but admire. If she didn’t have to go do her job, he’d go and kiss her again.

Dandrane looked back at him with her little sunglasses in her hand, poised to put them back on. “Come back later, ok?” It was said soft and low, a promise as much as it was a request.

 _Fuck_ . He wanted her, wanted _this_ , and she was forced to leave, and he doubted she wanted to leave him, either. He was being forced to wait, and that was something he never really liked to do. “I’ll be here.”

The corner of her mouth turned up in a little grin, the glasses went back on, and Peeves watched longingly as she strode to answer the door.

“Hey, Nora, let’s go down to the classroom, it’s easier to explain things with a chalkboard…”

Peeves, realizing he had a while to wait, pulled her wheelie chair to him and sat himself squarely underneath the remaining patch of loose magic, ignoring the broken wine bottle still laying on the floor. Surrounded by her scent, her magic, and still feeling lingering warmth from where her hands and mouth had been, Peeves settled down with a bit of a grin of his own, figuring he may as well finish what she started.

*~*~*~*~*

Cyrus found the rest of the day passing by relatively slow. Indeed, after their talk in the library, his brain kept shuffling information about, trying to answer questions he had no way of knowing the answer to. Classes seemed slower than normal, and lunch was somewhat tense, as Francine Tarquin was absent and he now knew exactly why she had been pulled away from breakfast. He found himself staring at his goblet of water, wondering if he would ever notice anyone slipping amortentia into his drink, and consequently pulling it more towards him and away from the chatty third-year he was sitting next to.  

Stan was reading through the entirety of Lucille Rousseau’s Two Years Under, which he had copied from the library (which had one copy wedged in the furthest corner of the biography section) and bewitched to look like the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4. Cyrus thought Nolan had explained the story quite plainly to them, so he couldn’t quite understand why Stan was bothering to read it. He looked like he was rather absorbed in it.

It was disturbing to think that one day, _he_ could feel like he was over the moon for someone, and then the next not feel anything at all, knowing that every action or thought about that person was based on a complete lie, and even worse, that said person _knew_ it wasn’t anything but a potion talking but carried on anyway. Even more disturbing was the thought that it would have been someone he trusted, let alone someone doing it for _years_. If Stan or Nolan did that to him, he didn’t think he could trust anyone again.

Nolan was busy talking to some of their other friends, but Cyrus knew he was keeping an ear open for anything regarding Francine. A fifth-year Hufflepuff sitting behind them had mentioned her once already - apparently she’d skipped Charms that morning.

Neither Nolan or Cyrus were surprised, as her friends were bound to ask questions; Nolan had said that more than likely, she wasn’t going to say _exactly_ why she’d been punished, as she wouldn’t want her would-be victim to know. It made sense, really - if it were Cyrus, he’d make sure to stay as far away from her as possible.

Once again, the question of who she was going to give the potion to nagged at him. It must’ve been someone sitting close to her… But no matter what, he couldn’t remember catching even a glimpse of who she had been sitting next to. Stan was no help, as he saw no reason to fret about such things, and while Nolan was curious, he was more interested in what Francine was going to do now; there was already a rumor that she’d been caught writing test answers on her hand, and another one where she was expelled.

Cyrus eyed the staff table. Professor Flemming was talking to Professor Slughorn; she had adopted her hair into a sort of flat side-swept look, and she seemed to be leaning on the table more than usual, but otherwise she seemed her usual self. He wished he could be like that, just taking things in stride…

He knew he shouldn’t dwell on it. Even Felix had told him to try and put the whole thing out of his head, as it wasn’t his business in the first place, but it was difficult to do - it was like a puzzle that was missing a few large pieces and Cyrus was trying to make his own to replace them. Unlike the other times he was faced with such a difficult puzzle, though, he didn’t want the answers just to satisfy his curiosity - he wanted to pull aside whatever unlucky Gryffindor Francine had targeted and warn him.

But he couldn’t. And it ate away at him.

Cyrus took another bite of his steak-and-kidney pie, wishing he never saw the whole fiasco in the first place. _Curiosity killed the cat_ , he thought. _From the stress of it, no doubt..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s done!!!! It’s finally done!!! *throws confetti* It took me THREE tries to rewrite this from the original plotline! I went all over the place! Trust me, you don’t want to know what the original document looked like - it was before I even started the story, and boy was it bad. Like, Dandrane-wasn’t-even-a-fully-realized-character-yet bad; and Peeves changed, too! A year ago, I originally wrote him as more of an...um, instigator in this whole scenario, too. He’s an aggressive sort of person, but this is a guy who’s never even been kissed before, so of course he’s not going to know what he’s supposed to do, and their relationship dynamic has grown a lot, too! Don’t worry, Peeves, Danny’ll teach ya a thing or two. ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> I’m sorry it took so long, too! But in the meantime, some important life things happened: my friend successfully moved, I got a full-time job, my sibling moved far far away, Summer of Steven happened, and I have been a very busy bee! I’ve been able to write the last ten pages of this thing at work, and man, it was really hard trying not to cry over Danny’s backstory at my desk. I ran through several different ways of telling it, and I’m fairly happy with the result. I didn’t even plan on having Peeves’ experience last chapter come into this one, but I found it fit rather well, and it was a fun challenge to make our little poltergeist feel sympathy without getting mushy about it. Ha ha, he has feelings! ʱªʱªʱª (ᕑᗢूᓫ∗) 
> 
> Speaking of Danny, let’s talk about love potions. More specifically, how incredibly disgusting they are and why I hate how lightly they’re taken in canon; even Hermione says in chapter 15 of HBP, and I quote, “love potions aren’t Dark or dangerous”, full-well knowing and acknowledging that it’s wrong to give someone a potion without their knowledge and after hearing Slughorn himself say that it was “the most dangerous potion in the room” during it’s introduction. Fucking Hermione said that, guys. You already read a whole bunch of stuff up there, what with Danny’s ranting, so you know all this, but I hate - and I mean hate - them. It’s like the Weasley twins are selling fucking rohypnol! If you are given a love potion, you become infatuated with whoever gives it to you, and when you’re obsessively in love you’ll do anything for that person. There’s simple things, like praising them and holding their stuff, but then there’s kissing them when they ask. Touching them when and where they want. Allowing them to do whatever they want to you, even if it hurts you, because you think you love them. You can be raped under the influence of this thing, and then when it wears off, where are you left? Everyone will think it was consensual, even the person who raped you will say so. Even you might think it was ok. It’s disgusting, it’s wrong, it’s the most despicable thing the wizarding world ever created, and it can be sold to literally anyone. What’s worse is seeing it played off as a joke *cough*ACursedChild!*cough* - even if rape or assault didn’t happen under the influence of the potion, it’s still a hefty violation of the mind, and I sympathize with Tom Riddle Sr. up and leaving his wife and their unborn child. He was probably all kinds of fucked up over a relationship and marriage that wasn’t consensual. I seriously scratch my head over why Rowling allowed it to even be legal in the HP world, even at the time of the original story. Also, I found out they make an HP Love Potion lapel pin, and yes, I am sickened by it’s mere existence. (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻
> 
> On a happier note, I was pleased with my three little Ravenclaws! It was nice to change perspectives for a while. I should bring them back again… Well, I guess I have to, you’re going to need closure on what Two Years Under was. You can probably guess. Still, it’d be fun to see them realizing what was going on! I tried to make them more diverse, so rather than having a repeat of the Golden Trio, we have something a bit fresher. Sure, one of them is in the “bookworm” trope, but the great thing is that they’re all bookworms with differing personalities and interests. Cyrus reads whatever catches his fancy or pertains to his interests, Stan reads just about everything, and Nolan likes drama and languages. I love all three of them! I want to write them a bit more in the future...
> 
> Oh! One last thing: I don’t know when the next chapter will be, due to both me working full-time and not quite knowing exactly what the next chapter will hold. I’ve got ideas written down (some I’ve gotten in the middle of work, and others I’ve had for months), but it’s not concrete, and I want to make sure everything I write lines up with the previous events and things I definitely know are going to happen. I have some information bombs coming up in the future and I need to make sure that I don’t make a complete ass of myself. I’d guess that it might take until sometime in mid-October. Until then! ᕕ(⌐■ з■)ᕗ


	12. Sensitivities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...hm? The rating’s been changed? Oh, yes… I made up my mind. Not Rated wasn’t doing it justice, what with Chapter 10 ‘n’ all, and a “Mature” rating would imply _restraint_ on my part. Ha ha! Like I’d take any of the fun away?! No, no. You guys came for a story and the promise of Eventual Smut, and you’re going to _get it._

Normally, Dandrane Flemming liked making a racket in the quiet hallways of Hogwarts’ castle. It was usually refreshing to hear the _click-clack_ of her heels on the heavy gray stone after a long day of teaching or research or both. It meant she was causing a disruption in the every-day, where it seemed no one else wore heels bigger than two inches and preferred the more modern styles to the basic slip-on or single- buckled ones. Nothing was better than instigating a break in thought in a place that spoke volumes of _tradition_ and _conformity_ , even if it was just by the mundane action as walking around in the middle of the day in “inappropriate muggle shoes”.

But today was not a normal day by any means, and she was in a hurry -  the constant clicking was getting her on edge for once. She kept straining her ears for the sounds of other people’s footsteps. There wasn’t bound to be many, as the majority of the school was still down in the Great Hall, but there was always the chance that someone would pop out and try to strike up a conversation of some kind, and that was entirely what she wanted to avoid. She even took one of the secret passages she remembered, just so she could avoid going up the main staircase. But of course she had mixed the passages up and now could not remember what floor she was on – _Why the fuck doesn’t this school have a directory_ , she thought to herself for the umpteenth time – so naturally she was later than she wanted to be. She should’ve been at her office five minutes ago.

Time was not on Dandrane’s side today, it seemed. Her morning had gone on for way too long, even without her crying and lashing out in her office earlier for the first time in months. She and Nora Ellsworth had both forgotten it was Monday, and the professor hadn’t realized just how much time had gone by when she was talking with Peeves – she and Nora had been greeted by a classroom full of first years who had been busily chatting in their seats, and the cuckoo clock on the wall told them class should’ve started five minutes before they had gotten there. Nora had dashed away to Arithmancy with a very pale face while Dandrane rushed to begin her class with an apology. And of course, just as Dandrane had taken two steps upstairs during her free third period, Nora had come back to bombard the professor with questions about the exam material for what must have been half an hour.

And Nora wasn’t the only one. Two other sixth-years, a nervous third-year, and a group of fifth-years had come by to ask all sorts of questions, not all of which pertained to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Apparently Dandrane was the only teacher with the knowledge and free time to go over magical history, as several of the fifth-years practically begged for her help with their O.W.L. preparation – or at least what they _said_ was O.W.L. preparation. Either way, she spent a good forty-five minutes helping them with a subject she technically wasn’t qualified to teach, occasionally glancing longingly at her office door and wishing she could just have more time to disappear up there for a while.

But of course she couldn’t; Dandrane knew she couldn’t survive on coffee alone. In the end, after a morning of throwing covetous looks at the door separating her classroom and her personal quarters, daydreaming about what could’ve escalated in there if they hadn’t been interrupted, she had to send a note to Peeves to say she would be back in there before lunch was over if he wanted to stop by. And now she had less than thirty minutes until she had to spend another hour and a half of standing in a classroom until she could get a chance to see Peeves again.

Maybe it was karma paying her back. Like it wasn’t doing enough damage _already_.

_Where in hell’s the stairs? And why is so fucking drafty? I swear, they need a central heating system, or at least some more rugs-_

“ _There_ you are,” a voice purred in her ear as cold air brushed against her cheek, causing the professor to stop mid-stride. There was a _pop_ , and suddenly Peeves was floating next to her, upside down and leering at her with a grin. “Been looking for you.”

Dandrane stood there, meeting his far-too-black eyes but not quite knowing what to say. Instead, her brain defaulted into what it always seemed to do when he was close to her - checking him out. His coattails were dangling down in the air but couldn’t drag the rest of the jacket with them, apparently. His suit was as well-fitting as ever, and for the second time that day Dandrane had the impulse to run her hands over it; only this time, she couldn’t give into the desire the second it popped up.

He was _very_ close to her, too, unabashedly leering as he turned himself right-side up and moved to float in front of her. “I waited for a long time, Phlegmy. What was the hold up?”

“A really good sandwich.” _…yeah, brilliant joke, Danny. Nicely done, sure he’ll appreciate that._

“I kept peeking in to see what you were doing, you know. Those brats got to see you for _far_ too long,” Peeves said, brushing the underside of her tie with the tips of his fingers. Dandrane felt a little surge of new energy as the poltergeist came within two inches of her face – she wanted to lean in and get round two of their little make-out session that morning started.

“Not out here,” she said quickly, reining in her libido as she pressed a hand to his chest to keep distance. There would be time for fooling around later.

“Why _not_?”

“Well… We need to talk.”

The little man moved back, grin slipping. Those four little words were _always_ cause for dread. It would do no good to wait until they were in her office; anxiety always cranked higher with every second in these kind of situations.

Dandrane racked her internal map of the school, cursing the confusing castle layout once more – surely there was an empty room or a broom cupboard or something around? She could cast a silencing ward on any room, it didn’t really matter which one… With the amount of other magics around, no one would notice if she had to leave it there for a while.

She spied an open door further down the hall. “Where’s that door go?”

Peeves barely spared it a glance before turning back to her. “Transfiguration classroom.”

“That’ll work.” Dandrane didn’t need to bother guiding him along - he was following her every step, though at a slight distance. She took the longest strides she could while straining her ears for any new sign of movement in the hall. No one _living_ was around, at least.

The classroom was surprisingly big and stuffed full of desks, and two giant chalkboards were covered in notes on transfiguration theory. It reminded Dandrane of a lecture hall in a college. It would echo, surely, even if she closed the door, so she set about casting a silencing barrier, a temporary water-based entry ward, and a hefty locking charm on the door to insure that no one would intrude. Magic stemmed from her wand and blended seamlessly with her surroundings, and even without looking the witch knew Peeves was watching her.

“So... I’ve been thinking...” _You can do this._ Dandrane carefully folded her sunglasses and put them in her pocket, blinking in the change of light. _Just_ say _it._

The poltergeist had settled atop the back of the nearest desk, watching her with a somewhat weary expression, his arms folded over his chest and, for once, keeping still.  

“I like you, Peeves. A lot.” Dandrane felt her face grow warm. Peeves sat up a little straighter and his eyes widened; were his eyes brighter than normal? “More than I probably should. And I would love to show you off - I _want_ to, but…” She was getting nervous. She didn’t normally have to ask a guy to go out with her in such a roundabout way. Then again, she _never_ had to explain why it might not be a good idea, either. “But if you really want to have a relationship with me, then -”

“Okay,” came his speedy reply. Peeves was staring at her, slack-jawed with glittering, hopeful eyes. The fact that he didn’t understand entirely what she was trying to say took away the charm.

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“I don’t care what you want me to do, _I’ll do it_ .” The poltergeist was practically _pleading_.

_Oh boy._

“Peeves, don’t say that,” Dandrane said, choosing to sit on the desk next to him rather than stand in front of him; it made her feel too much like a teacher otherwise. A fresh ache had blossomed in her chest, but she tried to ignore it for now. Certain things had to be talked about, and they were priority number one. “You might not like what I want. Guys have broken up with me because they didn’t like my kinks.”

He flushed slightly and smirked a little at the word “kinks”, but said nothing.

“I don’t want you to do something just because I like it or because _I_ want to do it. I know you’re going to have different tastes or wants, and that’s okay... But I need to know,” Dandrane asked, looking straight at him, “right now, whether you can handle keeping a relationship secret.”

“What? Why?!” Peeves grin was gone, and he looked like surprisingly taken aback...and a little offended. “I don’t care what people might think!”

“I know. If I were ten years younger, I’d agree with you and wouldn’t bother asking it in the first place. I would’ve told you I liked you the second I knew it, too.” Dandrane took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to relax and letting the words come naturally. She’d thought about this, ever since he passed out on her bed and she spent the night tossing and turning in her chair. “But if my book is published, and the general public knew I was _dating_ you at the time I was writing it, they might not take anything I say seriously. They might think I’m disillusioned, that you were just feeding me answers, that I’m crazy - who knows? That’s not even considering how they’d feel about a witch dating a poltergeist. There might be some backlash.”

“I’ve seen worse,” he gave a sort of knowing grin up at her. “At least you’re not running off with a centaur from the neighboring forest, like that villager three years ago,” Peeves said with a giggle. “Least _I’m_ fully humanoid.”  

It was a small comfort. Seven years working for the government taught her that people didn’t like having too much change too fast. Unconventional relationships were usually looked down upon, no matter how happy or healthy the relationship seemed. There was also the idea that people might not want her to teach if they found out, but she wouldn’t be the first teacher with an odd partner who still taught without having tenure...at least back home. “You get what I mean, though, right? I don’t want to throw away all my work, but I don’t want to walk away from you, either.”

Peeves leaned against her shoulder with a huff, choosing to look at her lap rather than her face. He was still room-temperature, though not as cold as the desks they were sitting on. “I guess.”

Dandrane wrapped an arm around his shoulder, feeling a glimmer of delight at finally being able to show her more physical affections. The material of his flashy old tailcoat was soft from age, but didn’t retain any warmth from his low body-heat. _It’d be nice if I could just put him in front of a heater for a few minutes or something._  

She wanted to tell him that she knew what it was like to have her name dragged through mud, and that she didn’t want him to have to go through that with her. However, that would only bring up questions she was in no mood to answer; she already had enough _reminiscing_ for today. She’d tell him another day.

“I… I like you, too, you know.” Peeves’ confession was quiet, and he still wasn’t looking at her, but Dandrane felt her heart beat faster anyway - was it his words, or the fact that he picked that moment to slide his hand on her thigh?

“I know. I mean, it was sort of obvious,” the witch laughed lightly, stroking his arm with her thumb and bending just enough to brush his slick hair against her lips. He smelled a bit like the castle - slightly earthy and musty, like the basement of her old home, blended with the smoke of extinguished candles and some herb she couldn’t quite identify the scent of. “I’ve had too many boyfriends not to notice, babe.”

“...how many?”

“Hm, six long-term and a handful of short-term.”

“Did you sleep with all of them?” Peeves had turned a bit more purple, but he finally looked up at her again, his dark eyes glistening.

“Usually after the third date,” Dandrane playfully smirked down at him. “Don’t worry about that too much. I always use protection, you know.” He seemed to be biting the inside of his lip. _Maybe that’s not what he was wanting to know. Great job, Danny. Just keep making an ass of yourself, why don’t you._ “But we can talk about that later, when you’re more comfortable,” the witch hurriedly added on.

“I’m comfortable _now_ ,” Peeves said smoothly, sliding his hand up her leg further. He was growing steadily warmer, and a familiar heat was building in-between the witch’s legs. “You aren’t changing the subject _that_ easily.” A slow grin spread on the poltergeist’s face; it was the sort that reminded her that she was alive, that she was _here_. “I want to know what kinks our Defense professor has that makes men run for the hills.”

 _Peeves, baby, you’ve got another thing coming if you think I won’t tease you._  

“Well, for _example_ ,” Dandrane purred, letting her hand wander slowly down his side, “I’ve had some nice little thoughts about you on my desk. I think you’d understand better if I gave a _demonstration_.”

Peeves let her slide away, his expression nothing short of delighted as she moved to stand before him, her fingers gliding to his opposing thigh and stopping flush next to it so she could slowly bend over him. He watched her every move, his eyes seeming to sparkle more as she got closer to him.

“It always starts like this,” Dandrane said in a low tone, smirking and leaning in like she was going to kiss him. He reached up, like he was going to grab hold of one of her lapels, but she snatched his wrist mid-air. “No, no, _no_ \- you’re not allowed to _move_ for this.” The poltergeist seemed disappointed, but he was looking more flushed than ever as he put his hand back down. “That’s better. Of course, it doesn’t mean that _I_ -” both hands slid over his knees - “can’t move _you_.” She spread them, stepping between his legs and curling her fingers underneath the joints. “Can you lean back a little for me? These desks aren’t flat.” At least the front edge he was perched on was tall.

Peeves did as she asked, seeming a bit confused but gleeful nonetheless.

The witch pulled his legs so they curled around hers, feeling heat spark where their crotches pressed lightly together, despite the lack of natural warmth within him. She ground into him a little, watching as his leer grew heavier. “That’s better. Now, the _kinky_ bit,” she muttered as her hands slid quickly towards his backside, “is that sometimes I’m riding you...” Dandrane leaned down and kissed him gently, loving the slight chill she got along with the pleasant tingle on her lips. _God_ , _his mouth is so soft_.  She pulled away, longing to do more, to kiss him roughly and just let things get wild at a natural pace, but the desire to tease him was greater and the lack of time they had was something she was all too aware of.

His eyes were slightly glazed over, the same misty-eyed look he had when he had first pulled her in for a kiss hours ago. _I didn’t think poltergeists would be so damn easy._

“And _sometimes_ ,” she teased, her voice low, her lips barely an inch away from his, “I’m wearing a strap-on.”

She expected a hard blush, or maybe sort of surprised look, or even a coy grin. Instead, he blinked up at her like he hadn’t heard it correctly.

“A what?”

Oh good God. He didn’t know what a strap-on was.

“...do you know what pegging is?”

“Never heard of it.”

Dandrane pulled back so she wasn’t leaning over so much, propping her hands on the table edge; Peeves pushed himself back up with her, but he didn’t unwrap his legs. That was more than okay with her. “Wow, porn over here must be pretty boring,” she said jokingly. “Well, don’t freak out or anything, but essentially... I want to give you anal.”

 _Now_ he blushed, slowly trailing his gaze towards where their groins met. “But, er...you don’t…?”

“No, I mean with a _dildo_ , babe - a fake dick. Attached to me.” She could see the comprehension dawn on his face. “I could start you off small, if you wanted to try it.” There was no ‘could’, really - if he wanted to try pegging she’d start him off with beads and see how he liked it. There was no way she’d break out the big guns for such a small man’s first time, even if he was horny enough to want it.

“Why didn’t your boyfriends like it?”

“A couple of them did. Most either weren’t into it or thought it made them seem gay or something,” Dandrane replied with a shrug. “I don’t _need_ it to have fun with you, though, so if you aren’t interested -”

“Didn’t say I _wasn’t_ .” Peeves wasn’t grinning, but his eyes still gleamed mischievously. “Can’t be _all_ there is though, can it?”

“Bondage is nice sometimes,” the witch said with a smile, not missing a beat, “and I like giving orders in the bedroom - though I’ll ease up on that for you. I don’t think you’d like having someone tell you what to do all the time.”

He quirked a grin at her. “Go on.”

“I’d also like to pull your hair.” She couldn’t help but look at the slick, coal-black tresses on his head. She wanted to put her fingers through it...tug it backwards and expose his pale blue neck for her. She loved doing that in the heat of things. “And I like biting occasionally. But it’s game over for you if _you_ yank my hair or bite my breasts,” she added seriously. “I kicked a guy out of bed for that before. _Literally_.” Peeves’ grin returned full-blast. “His head almost hit the nightstand.”

The poltergeist snickered. “That bad, huh?”

“If I tell you not to do something, _I mean it_. The same courtesy applies to you, Peeves. You tell me ‘stop’ or ‘wait’ or ‘no’ and I’ll comply, no matter what. I won’t make you do anything you don’t like.”

He seemed to be searching her eyes, like he thought she might be pulling a fast one on him. “Alright, Phlegmy, you’re on.”

Dandrane felt like her stomach had trembled. She couldn’t help but grin back. “You’re sure?”

“You can’t get rid of me _that_ easily, Phlegmy. I’m not going to chuck it all and leave just for keeping my mouth shut.” Peeves’ hands slid over hers, the pads of his fingers too soft for them to be human.

“Well, I hope you’re not quiet _all_ the time,” Dandrane leaned down, breathing over his ear as their groins slipped out of each other’s reach, “I like a bit of noise.” She just barely kissed the shell of it, and he leaned back farther, his eyes practically glowing.

“Phlegmy, kiss me.”

She kissed his cheek, teasing him just a little more, grinning at how his face turned lavender and his thin brows furrowed slightly.  

When she finally kissed him properly, it felt like the word ‘taboo’ had disappeared from her vocabulary. Doubts all but vanished, worries shuffled themselves to the back of her mind, and all that mattered right then was that they were pressed together, cloth-covered flesh and bone grinding softly together. Peeves’ arms wrapped around her back as much as they could. His fingers dug into the cotton of her cheap suit jacket as she pulled away for a breath and returned with an open mouth, a warmer tongue greeting a cooler one with slow passion.

Peeves was obviously new at this. He knew to lean into her and tilt his head, but he was clumsy with his tongue and oddly reserved; if anything, she figured he wasn’t sure exactly what to do and when, but he wanted to do something anyways. Well, you didn’t become a great kisser overnight, much less with only a tiny bit of experience. She didn’t mind - at the very least, he was letting her set the pace, and aside from leaving a pleasant tingly feeling on her tastebuds, he was so, _so_ easy to please. He groaned with every new stroke, and all she had to do was run her tongue slowly underneath his and he became complete putty in her hands, moaning into her mouth like he was going to _nut_.

He might’ve been close, anyways. The witch could feel his semi-hard-on pressing determinedly against her.

Dandrane pulled away, letting the weird mild curry flavor of his mouth sit on her tongue as she took a well-earned breath. “That’s twice in a row you’ve gotten hard in my lap.”

“I can’t _help_ it,” he looked away, face darkening in hue. “You’re too good.”

“Really? I think you’re just _sensitive_ ,” the witch said as she groped his thigh. Peeves squirmed a little.

“Am not.”

“You _so_ are. Your face just got darker.”

“Did _not_ ,” he protested, defiance ringing through his voice and the very poor glare he was giving her. _Man, he’s cute like this, too._ “And I’m not _sensitive!”_

“Okay then, _prove_ it,” she smirked, her fingers trailing on the outline of his erection. “Let me take care of _this-_ ” Dandrane caressed him fully, and she could tell he’d gotten harder already - “for you. If you last over a minute, I won’t call you sensitive.” ... _to your face_.

Peeves stared at her for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek. _Is he mulling things over, or is he nervous? Maybe both?_ “Deal.” The word seemed to echo in the unfamiliar classroom.  

The witch was no stranger to restraint play of any kind, let alone quiet handjobs, but this was something she had been thinking about in the quieter moments of half her morning. Even though she wanted to just undo the buttons and watch him get off right there, she knew that she should wait. She’d do that last. Waiting was half the fun, after all.

She bent as if to kiss his ear again, but blew air over it, watching the blue skin turn purple as she fondled him, delighting in seeing him blush the hardest she’d ever seen. He gave a feeble protest, but it died halfway out of his mouth as she slowly ran her tongue from his earlobe to the pointed tip, mimicking the movement she made with her hand much farther down his body. He gave no sharp intake of breath, like human men - he had closed his eyes and was now openly biting his lower lip.

Dandrane couldn’t help but watch his face as she started to work his obscured shaft in her hand. The cloth of his trousers was as soft as his overcoat was, but it wasn’t too stretchy, so it was hard to say just how comfortable he was. At a guess, he was about average in length - she had to see it to know. She wanted to see, wanted to touch, wanted to _taste…_ Her libido was getting ready to shift into third gear, drooling at the thought of blowing him right in the middle of another teacher’s classroom.  

Peeves turned his head away from her, trying and failing not to moan as she cupped his balls.

“Do you want to cum?” She whispered before nibbling gently on his ear-tip.

“No.” His voice was so small it was almost funny. Maybe it was the lack of air in his lungs.

 _Babe, you’re too cute for your own good._ “Not yet, huh?” She kissed the corner of his mouth as she began to undo the buttons in the middle of his fly. She wasn’t going to pull him out yet - just tease a bit closer to home. “We’ll see about that.”

She wormed her fingers in the gap as slow as possible to avoid poking him with her nails too harshly. She expected to feel more old cotton - instead, she found warm flesh. His eyes popped open the second a fingertip brushed over his bare erection.

“You go _commando_ , huh?” Dandrane teased, unable to help the smirk on her face. “How _bold_.”

“You-” The poltergeist was looking at her again, finally taking a breath of air to speak. He looked surprised, but he gripped her coat hard when she gave his cock a short stroke. “’m not...” Peeves clamped his mouth shut and trembled as she moved her fingers to what she could reach of his tip. “You _cheat_.”

“Hm?” She caressed part of his tip with one finger, keeping the others pressed softly on the veins of his shaft.

“I won’t _last_ ,” he breathed as he looked away from her.

Dandrane stopped moving her fingers. He seemed okay, but… “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” The black depths of his eyes were soft.

She moved her fingers again, trying to grip him as she stroked faster, her thumb and palm moving over the cloth. He groaned harshly at that, and she was suddenly aware of how her heart raced with excitement. “Are you too embarrassed to look at me?”

“ _No_ ,” he said defiantly, meeting her gaze with a pathetic, glossy-eyed excuse for a glare.

“Good, you shouldn’t be.” The witch stopped stroking and pulled away enough to finish undoing his trousers. “You _passed_ .” Peeves’ hard-on practically sprang free, and Dandrane couldn’t help but pull back just a little more - she just _had_ to have a good look.

It was a few shades darker than the blue of his skin, though the tip that peeked out of his foreskin was the same sort of jam color as his tongue. It seemed to be in proportion of his height, but it was as thick as a normal person’s.

“More human looking than I thought,” she said with a leer, grasping him fully in her hand. She wanted to watch as she jerked him off, but Peeves pulled her down to him by the front of her coat until they were almost nose-to-nose. He had sort of a new sort of spark in his eyes, as if Dandrane had provoked him somehow.

“Don’t you _dare_ stop,” he said, sounding halfway between a hiss and a purr. She had no time to respond or think on it - he kissed her, a little hard at first, his nose pushed against her cheek. Her brain was getting pleasantly hazy and _everything_ seemed even warmer than before. She gripped the desk’s edge harder, wanting to put her arm around him.

Their kiss softened the more she she pumped him in her hand. He stopped altogether when she applied a bit more pressure, and Dandrane took to trailing wet kisses from his chin to the exposed part of his neck, not wanting to stop tasting his skin. His hands gripped at her clothes harshly, his legs were stiff around her thighs, and he was groaning merrily away.

She ran two fingers over the head, and Peeves went stiff and quiet, his dick twitching under her as precum coated her fingers. Her tongue rolled over part of his neck, and he bent his head back as far as he could.

One more swipe over the warm, sticky tip, and Peeves came with a long, throaty moan, his fingers digging into the fabric of her jacket hard enough to tear it.

Dandrane gripped the desk so hard she felt her nails dig into it. She wanted more, but they had no time for that now, and she knew herself too well to think she’d be awake and raring to go after her next class. Probably not for a while, actually - this morning’s outburst had taken a lot out of her.

She pulled her hand away from him so she could have a look at it, feeling particularly sticky and warm as Peeves’ own hands fell loosely to the desk - well, that was another question answered now: Peeves’ spunk was white. _Aw man, I was hoping it’d be green or something... Oh well. Can’t always get what you want._

Peeves caught her eye, his usual mischievous grin in place as he continued to lean (or was he floating?) backwards in the air, admiring her with a glowing, half-lidded gaze. “You _pervert_.”

“Says the guy who came in my hand,” Dandrane grinned back. She leaned away to examine the whole picture - he was laying there, flaccid, with white specks and trails oozing into the material of his trousers and lower parts of his jacket. _Man, do I wish I had a camera on me..._ “Look at you, you’re a mess.”

His dark eyes flickered down between them, lingering on her groin. “So are _you_.”

She followed his line of sight - ugh, she was going to have white stains on her clothes if she left it alone. She slid her wand out of the holder hidden up her sleeve and pointed it between them. “ _Scourgify_ ,” Dandrane said lazily, watching the cum fade as soapy water gently washed over her cum-covered hand and their clothes. “You okay?”

“More than okay,” the poltergeist beamed up at her, “You ought to use magic on me more often.”

“Have you never had magic done on you before or something?”

He rolled his eyes. “‘Course I have. I’ve gotten more hexes and jinxes hurled my way than you _ever_ have. I just tend to dodge those.”

“I mean _non-offensive_ magic, babe. I’d be surprised if people _didn’t_ try to curse you occasionally. _Sicco_ ,” Dandrane grinned as warmth swept over them, leaving them as dry as when they started.

“Mm. A few times, but it’s never felt this _good_ .” Peeves pushed her legs a little more towards him with his feet. “Try _another_.”

 _An afterglow effect? The only way to know is do some control tests, but-_ The witch glanced at her watch, unsurprised to find the long hand edging towards the fifty-minute mark. Platts was going to be strolling in any minute. “Sorry, babe, no can do. We’re out of time.”  

“What? _Already?_ ”

“Yup. I’ve got a class to teach.”

Peeves pouted, even as he unwrapped his legs from around hers. “Well, what about _after?_ ”

“Maybe… Depends on how tired I am, I guess.” Dandrane set about removing her enchantments from the walls as Peeves re-buttoned his trousers. “I guess I should’ve held off on all this until I was more energetic,” she commented with a laugh. “But it’s my own fault for trying to put you off last month.”

She didn’t need to look over at him to know Peeves was staring at her. She could feel his eyes on the back of her head.

“I’m sorry for being so...well, _weird_ . I just…” She breathed. “I didn’t want to get hurt - and I didn’t want to hurt _you_ , either. I have a stupid tendency to do that in relationships.” She didn’t want look at him. But she knew she should. “Peeves-”

The witch had turned to face him, but he was already floating in front of her, looking more serious despite bearing a small, derisive smile. “You won’t hurt me.”

“I know you’re a thousand years old and everything, but there’s no way you can know that.”

“ _You_ don’t know that, either.”

No, she didn’t. She didn’t know how much he cared about her - only that he clearly did - or if he had the capacity to care so much as to break down like she did when a relationship was over. He probably never had any sort of relationship before; she doubted he knew exactly how it would be, either. People always grew over time. Maybe a poltergeist wouldn’t have that problem.

“...I guess it’s sort of presumptuous to think you’ll be as much of a mess in June as me. Then again, I’m _always_ a bit of a mess.”

Peeves’ eyes swept over her. “Look perfectly fine to me.”

“Yeah, on the _outside_ , maybe,” Dandrane smirked, knowing herself too well to think she wouldn’t dwell on this morning’s events for ages. “Come on, let’s blow this joint before Gryffindor’s leading asshole comes back.”

Dandrane flicked her wrist at the door and stuck her hands in the pockets of her slacks, feeling the chill of the hallway already trying to bite at her. To her surprise, Peeves looped his arm around hers as if she were courting him. With a faint _pop_ , he became invisible to the naked eye; the only way the witch still knew he was there was by the weight that had settled comfortably against her arm and the quick directions he murmured into her ear. The clanging of the bell signifying the end of lunch seemed miles away, muffled by the castle walls and the snow whirling outside.

They had slipped into a secret passage hidden behind a painting of a group of nuns as a clamor of people were heard ascending the steps around the corner, Professor Platt’s voice chattering among them, all completely unaware that Professor Flemming  was ever there, let alone that Peeves was hanging onto her arm with the look of a man still in the midst of after-glow.

*~*~*~*~*

The Hogwarts library was always quiet. This was usually because Madam Pince would sooner eat chocolate behind the front desk than allow conversations louder than a whisper, but today the rows upon rows of bookshelves were even quieter than normal. That, of course, was because it was very early on a Saturday, and aside from the well-paced fifth and seventh year students leafing through books the size and weight of laptops, Cyrus Hemingr was the only student awake and eager to study.

 _Gringotts, A History of Greed_ … _Goblin Riots, Volume I_ … _Gently Came the Stranger_... _Hey_ , _wait a minute._

Cyrus eyed the worn pink paperback placed innocently between Great Galloping Goblins and Everything You Need to Know About Goblin Riots on the shelf. He pulled it down, and one glance at the cover told him that not only was this not a real library book, but it was definitely not intended for the Non-Fiction section.

It wasn’t the first time Cyrus had found a book misplaced, and it wasn’t the first time someone had left a book from home behind, but it was the first time he’d seen such a... _provocative_ cover. Part of him wanted to put it back and pretend he hadn’t been there… But he couldn’t just let this sort of stuff sit around. That’d be irresponsible, and he wanted to stay a model student in the eyes of teachers.

Maybe he should just take it with him. It was small enough to stuff in the pocket of his robes, and it wouldn’t set off the alarm at the door, since it didn’t have a library card glued into the front. Stan and Nolan were likely to still be snoozing away in their dorm, and he doubted Gavin or Tom would be awake, either. He could stash it under his mattress without waking anyone up.

No one would ever have to know...

“I’d put that one back, if I were you,” a raspy feminine voice said over his shoulder. “Irene will be looking for it later.”

Cyrus felt his face burn as he hastily shoved the book right back on the shelf.

“Don’t worry. You’re not the first person who’s found her smut in the history section. She can’t seem to keep them in her dorm.”

Cyrus turned, feeling like his head was on fire, feeble excuses springing to mind but his mouth refusing to open. Audrey Hayburth stood behind him, her thumb stuck in-between pages of Goblin Riots, Volume II. She looked different than she did in class - a pair of orange-rimmed reading glasses sat perched on her hooked nose and a quill stuck out from the top of her messy black bun. Her expression, though, was the same sort of straight-faced and serious look as always.

“You’re looking for this, right?” The Slytherin fourth-year held up the thick volume. “I saw you and thought we could share a table.”

“Oh...uh, sure. Thanks.”

Cyrus followed her to a nearby well-worn table, still feeling embarrassed at being caught with a dirty book in his hands. He hoped Audrey wasn’t the type of person to blab to her friends. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t know her very well at all… All he knew was that she was one of the Slytherin Beaters. He plopped down in one of the ancient wooden chairs, sitting his bag onto the very worn table and eyeing a short stack of small multi-colored paperbacks sitting under a composition notebook bearing Audrey’s name in elegant cursive. He didn’t know what Marmalade Boy was, but it at least had five volumes, as she had two, four, and five.

Before he could ponder on what sort of books they could possibly be (and wondering if they, too, were full of adult material), Audrey began to flip through the giant history book. Cyrus pulled out his quill, ink, and parchment; he had seven inches of his essay already written.

“How far are you?” She asked politely, skimming the pages.

“Half-way done. You?”

“The same.”

Cyrus felt awkward. He’d never talked to Audrey outside of a class before, either. This was the second time she’d decided to help him for no particular reason. Unless she had an ulterior motive… But he couldn’t think of what that could be. He certainly wasn’t going to do her work _for_ her, if that was what she was after. “So… Who’s Irene?”

Audrey turned her murky green eyes to him; her expression didn’t change, but her voice was still polite. “Yates. In Hufflepuff.”

She might be one of Audrey’s friends... But she wasn’t in _their_ year, was she? He knew a Yates, but that one was an older Gryffindor...

“She usually sits two tables over from you in Divination,” Audrey said, as if guessing what he was thinking.

Cyrus felt even more embarrassed. “Sorry… I’m not used to remembering a lot of first names.”

“That’s alright. It takes getting used to.” Audrey flipped the page, her stony eyes returning to scan the book for something. “It’s weirder hearing them, though.”

“What, no one calls you Audrey?”

“Not outside of my friend group. And Professor Flemming.” She paused in her reading, seeming to think for a second. “You’re half-blooded, right? You’ve got a muggle parent?”

“Yeah.” _Isn’t she half-blooded, too?_

The girl’s gaze met his, full of curiosity. “...you’ve seen movies before, then?”

Cyrus blinked. What kind of question was that? It was one of the most normal pastimes in the world - heck, he and Felix were practically _raised_ on television. They knew every ITV and BBC1 lineup for quite a while. “Er, yeah…”

“Have you seen _Little Shop of Horrors_?” She had a rather fierce stare, for someone with such dully-colored eyes.

“Um, it’s a musical, right?” _Little shop, little shop of hor-ror,_ his brain started to sing reflexively. _Bop-sh’bop, little shop of ter-ror -_

“Professor Flemming said that’s how she remembered my name.”

Cyrus couldn’t help but crack a smile at that. “That’s more interesting than mine. She first addressed me as ‘Cyrus the Great’. I had to look up who that was!”

For the first time, Audrey seemed to smile back.

“So, I’ve gotten to the point where General Marogx made the advance on Spancel Hill, but I lost track after that…”

Things settled into a relatively comfortable silence, and after a while of flipping through the history book together and advising each other on what needed to be added and where, Cyrus was starting to think that maybe Audrey wasn’t too bad.

“So what happened to you in Potions the other day?”

The teen didn’t look up at her; he didn’t want to answer. He’d embarrassed himself enough yesterday, when his potion had overcooked and spouted so much dark smoke that Professor Slughorn had to whirl it away so the rest of the class could see their work.

“That was the second time you slipped up there this week. You tend to get E’s and O’s.”

Second time? Oh, right, his potion had turned orange rather than purple for a while. But… Didn’t she sit farther away from him that day, though? It should’ve been hard to see from her angle… “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Your potion turned orange for fifteen minutes. You added too many beetle eyes.”

Was...was she _watching_ him?

He was trying not to get upset, trying to keep a level head like the rational Ravenclaw he was, but the thought of her following him around, even just with her eyes, was creeping him out. Was she stalking him? Was that how she noticed him in the history section? Was that why she was up at such an odd time, like he was this morning? “I just made a few mistakes, that’s all,” he said casually, trying to think of how else he could get out of this. _What would Nolan do?_

“Oh… I thought your conversation here the other day was still bothering you.”

“What?” He shot his head in her direction, his fingers gripping his quill a little too tightly. _Leave_ , his conscience hissed at him, _Now._

“I was on the other side of the stacks looking for a book,” she said as she returned to looking at him, her voice and expression as calm as ever. It did not make him feel better. “I overheard some of it. You should really use a muffling charm next time. You’re lucky no one else was in that corner.”

“Have you been following me?” He ground out, keeping his voice quiet so not to disturb Madam Pince. The last thing he wanted was the librarian breathing down his neck.

“No.” Audrey looked somewhat taken aback. “I have no reason to do that.”

“Why are you telling me this?” He whispered rapidly, “Did you _know_ I’d be here?”

“No,” Audrey said simply, “I was surprised to see you, too. I just wanted to know if you were okay.”

Cyrus’ mind was whirling. She knew about what happened with Francine, then. He hadn’t heard a single rumor about what really happened in the Great Hall. Days later and all he had heard was Diane mentioning that her sister was upset and Francine telling her friends she had got detention for writing answers on her hand. Nothing about love potions or the like…

Audrey had apparently kept her mouth shut. Though she _could_ be lying about not knowing he would be here.

“I’m _fine_.”

“Oh...alright, then.”

She worked in silence for a bit, Cyrus making sure to keep his chair as far away from hers as possible. He still needed to use the book.

Cyrus felt panic rise up in him again when he felt something pass over him like a breath of air - she had cast a spell.

“I know who Francine likes,” Audrey said plainly.

The teen risked a glance - she was staring at him. He could practically feel her eyes bore into his head.

“It’s Lucas Walsh, from Gryffindor.”

Then the possibility of Lucas being the almost-victim was rather high. He was one of the Chasers; he wasn’t as good as Felix, nor as handsome, but he did score quite a few goals for a fifth-year rookie. Cyrus was trying hard to remember if that was who was sitting next to Francine the other day, but he couldn’t remember… So many guys had brown hair at that table… And people always seemed to shift seats...

But it seemed to fit. Lucas was popular enough - Nolan had talked about who was dating who at the supper table before, and Cyrus felt sure the Gryffindor was mentioned at least twice so far this year.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I can’t very well tell him myself. Slytherin and Gryffindor have been rivals for too long.”

Cyrus looked back over at her. She seemed even more serious than usual. She had a point, of course - no Gryffindor on the Quidditch team would believe a Slytherin saying _anything_. Even in his first year at Hogwarts, he’d seen older Slytherins trying to psyche-out their rival players.

“I didn’t mean to listen in on your conversation.” Audrey looked genuinely sorry as she shuffled slightly in her seat. “I only… Since overhearing all that… ” Her rather tan face turned a little pink. “Diane doesn’t even know what her sister’s done - Kelly Winters is friends with her, too, she told me yesterday. Honestly… I’m as concerned as you are.”

“It’s okay,” Cyrus replied, not knowing what else to say. “Er, how did you know my potion had turned color?”

“I passed by your table when you were going through the supply closet.”

“Oh.” _Guess I over-reacted, then._ “Thanks for telling me.”

Audrey stared down at her essay for a moment, the ink from her quill dripping onto the table atop a crude carving of ‘J + L’. “Are you going to tell him?”

“Yeah.” Truthfully, he didn’t know how he would go about telling Lucas that he was almost drugged by one of his own housemates. “Somehow.”

Another spell passed over him like a soap bubble hitting his skin; this time, he saw her wand movement under the desk.

“What spell was that?”

“Counter-jinx to _muffliato_.”

“You can cast it _silently_ ?” Cyrus felt his eyebrows rise involuntarily. Non-verbals were for fifth-year study. How did she do that so _easily?_

Audrey gave a shrug. “I picked it up from my mom. Our neighbor’s T.V. is always penetrating the wall in our house. We keep hearing _Doctor Who_ reruns at all hours of the night otherwise.”

“I wouldn’t mind if it were the Tom Baker episodes. Those are pretty good.”

“You watch it?”

“Yeah, sometimes, it’s one of the few shows my mom likes. That and _Star Trek_ .” Cyrus said, copying a line about the Goblin’s victory over the hundred-wizard army onto his essay. “Drives Felix nuts, it means he can’t watch anything else until she gives back the remote, and those marathons can last _hours_.”

He could hear a smile in her voice. “Sounds like my dad. He’s been watching _Top Gear_ every weekend for twenty years; I just go practice on my broom when he gets on the second episode, it always means we won’t go into town until past noon.”

The table leg suddenly slipped, like it had decided to finally snap in half after it’s many years of service, and the pile of books slid down towards them, Goblin Riots, Volume II almost slamming into Cyrus’ arm when he automatically flinched away from the table - Audrey caught the heavy volume by the edge of its binding just before it hit the floor, grasping it between her fingers as if it were just a couple of sheets of paper and not a fifteen-pound package of thick leather and parchment. Cyrus heard his bag tumble to the floor, smashing his ink bottle with it.

“Are you okay?” Audrey asked, forcing the book to stay on the table with a light press of her palm, the murky green of her eyes shining with honest concern.

“Yeah,” he answered as his heart pounded. He didn’t need any more surprises. Was a chandelier going to fall on top of him next? _“Reparo,_ ” Cyrus pointed his wand at the splintered leg and watched it fix itself, the wood groaning in protest, and Audrey relinquished her hold on the desk’s edge. “Were you holding it _up?_ ”

“Yes.”

“How?” Cyrus asked, flabbergasted. She was plump and broad-shouldered, but she never rolled her sleeves up - he didn’t know how much muscle she had on her arms. The Beater’s bats were sturdy, but even he could lift them over his head.

“I lift cast iron weights for Quidditch training. This is nothing.”

Then, after a beat, something changed in the light of her eyes. She blanched suddenly, staring at him.

“It’s Saturday, isn’t it?” she asked, sounding far away. Cyrus nodded. “Captain’s going to kill me.”

She grabbed her stack of books and ink jar and shoved them all into her bag, almost stretching the material to it’s limit, and slid her essay in-between two of the Marmalade Boy books. Cyrus knew from experience that sooner or later her bag was going to tear.

“See you later,” she said as she threw the bag over her shoulder and hurried away, still rather pale as Cyrus called out a quiet “good luck”.

Minutes ticked by and a few more lines were written with the pen he had stashed in his pocket for just such occasions, but Cyrus found the silence of the library becoming stifling. The work, too, was no longer distracting - it just reminded him of how alone he was and how sooner or later, he’d have to talk to Lucas Walsh.

Maybe he’d finish his essay at breakfast… He could finish it and hand it off to Audrey easier that way, and his best friends always got seats in there within the first five minutes to ensure they had the first pick of Saturday’s pastries. He slid his supplies back into his now-ink-free bag and used the falcon-feather quill Audrey had left behind as a bookmark in the giant text before hefting the lot into his arms. _You have to talk to Lucas,_ his brain chided him, _you could do that at breakfast, too._

He didn’t want to, though. Not right now. He had to find him alone, and that could take ages…

_Wish I had something to take my mind off all this crap…_

The light-bulb clicked on in his head, and, making sure no one was around to see him, Cyrus slipped back into the history section before making his way to Madam Pince’s desk, a pink paperback hidden in the pocket of his robes.

Surely, Irene Yates wouldn’t mind if someone borrowed a book she just left lying around. Why else would she leave it in a library?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well well well - I got done in about the amount of time I expected! All your kind words and kudos helped motivate me every day - thank you so much, you big sweetie-pies!!! ✧˖°ˈ·*ε-(๑˃́ε˂̀๑ ) I made soooo many adjustments to this little 20-page monster. I needed to have a bit of a conclusion with Cyrus’ little mystery, and I wanted to make sure I got the sex talk right - it’s an important conversation to have, but I needed to make sure it didn’t sound dry. I was also a bit stuck on how to end it for quite a while...and then I found a “what to do when you're stuck in the middle of a scene” post - one of the answers was to throw in a bit of sex. Naturally. 
> 
> Speaking of, Danny’s a kinky gal, so there will be a _bit_ of fem-dom in here. Not so much as to drive Peeves OOC - don’t worry, I’ll keep him firmly in character! Danny’s the kind of person who likes being both on top and on bottom, so she doesn’t mind not always getting her way. I think I’ll just label the kinky tags at the beginning notes of chapters where they pop up, rather than spoil the story too much by adding them into the story’s tag set as I go (I also want to warn people who might be squicked or triggered. Safety first, kids!). When the story is completed, I’ll add them all into the tag set. If you want to keep it a surprise for yourself, don’t read the beginning notes!! 
> 
> On a different topic, I had to use more references this time around! I don’t know how JKR made her goblin names, so I used The Goblin Name Generator (thanks, internet! You always know what I’m looking for!). I also continued to use Google translate to make the drying charm, which you are free to use if you want: _Sicco_ \- Latin verb meaning “dry” or “dry up”. I also picked Spancel Hill off of a list of real-life battle locations, but it’s also written as “Spancill Hill” or “Spancillhill”. Oh, and I bought _Pesky Poltergeists_ \- because of course I did, my son's finally being written about again! - it had nothing new, but it’s nice to point to as a definitive reference. You have no idea how pissed off I get when people write Peeves with a ghost’s body! _He’s got a physical form!_ Check PS/SS and CoS! Solid body and full of color, not pale and transparent!!! (ꐦ ಠ皿ಠ ) 
> 
> I can’t guess when the next update will be, sadly. I’m hoping to upload the Yule chapter (because of course there’s one) before Christmas, but there’s probably a one chapter ahead of that one… We’ll see how it goes! Until then, keep it creepy, spooplings! ∋━━o(｀∀´oメ）～→


	13. I've Got A Theory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope is the strongest part of the human soul. Even when things look their worst, when happiness and prosperity seems miles and miles away, we have hope to use as fuel for pushing onward and changing our future for the better. It makes you stand up rather than sit. It makes you live.
> 
> Hope and kindness must help turn the tide, and people need reminders that there are good things and good people in this world. I hope this story brings some smidgen of value to your day, even when things seem at their very worst.

Peeves had imagined various scenarios of seeing Dandrane naked since late September, but didn’t expect it to go quite like  _ this _ . 

At first, he had only seen Dandrane’s bare legs sticking out of the tub, like she was lying flat on her back inside it, and for a second Peeves thought she was drowning herself in the rose-colored bathwater. Before he could move or think any further, her hands had risen out of the water and grasped the tub’s edges, causing water to splatter on the stone floor, and then, time seeming to slow down a bit, she pulled herself up. It was like watching a nymph rise to the surface of a red sea, water cascading down her torso and dripping down from her hair to her breasts. She gave a content sigh and wiped the water from her eyes with one of her hands. 

Then, she noticed he was there - maybe because his color palette was a stark contrast to the repetitive stone walls and dull white fixtures. That, or she could sense his presence. Something along those lines, surely...

“Oh, hey, Peeves. What’s up?” She smiled at him, pushing her wet pink hair to the side of her face as she settled against the back of the heavy slipper tub, drawing her legs in. Somehow - probably an enchantment on the tub - her legs disappeared entirely from view.  Her chest, on the other hand, was still in full view. The poltergeist’s heart wouldn’t stop hammering in his ribs. 

“Phlegmy, you’re…uhm...” Nude. Naked. _ Completely in the nip _ . And she was just  _ sitting  _ there.

“Taking a bath?” She smirked at him, resting her arms on the edges of the tub like sitting in a chair. “What, did you expect a bathing suit?” _Asshole,_ he thought as his heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t like he got to see the woman he liked _naked_ every day. “Are you just going to float there all day and stare or what?”

Peeves felt his temper flaring up with newfound embarrassment. He  _ had  _ figured she wasn’t the modest type… How could she be, when she had flounced about her bedroom in her underwear in front of him ages ago? And now he was right - she was bathing in front of him like he wasn’t her... _ boyfriend _ . Her  _ very inexperienced _ boyfriend; he’d seen naked women before, but never ones he  _ liked _ ! This was altogether a very different experience! Shouldn’t she  _ know  _ that? “I’m debating on whether or not I can strangle you with the shower curtain.”

“Ooh, breath play? Now  _ that’s  _ kinky,” she grinned, teasing him. “Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that,” she eyed him knowingly, “I  _ know  _ you looked when we had our little chat in the shower.”

“That was different,” he mumbled, remembering the accusations that caused her to angrily shove aside the curtain in the first place. 

“You’re telling me you  _ didn’t  _ think about it later? ” 

Of course he did. He thought about touching them, imagined how soft they were bare, imagined what they would be like pressed against him… 

She sighed, her smile slipping, and she leaned both arms on the side of the tub, twisting herself so she sat on her side, hiding her breasts from view. “Are you really that uncomfortable with seeing me naked?” Her voice was curious and concerned, and her eyes just as much so. His heart clenched despite himself. “Or is it because you want to get me all shy?”

Peeves folded his arms over his chest, tearing his gaze away from her and choosing to look at the bare wall. “Maybe a  _ little _ .” 

She chuckled. “It’s going to take a lot more than  _ that  _ to get me embarrassed, babe. Why don’t you just join me?”

His eyebrows rose involuntarily, and his attention shot right back to her. He’d be able to touch her,  _ all  _ of her… That was something he’d only dreamt of doing before, and to have it in reality was a little overwhelming, he already felt like he flew a mile in a minute... But it was a chance to fool around, and she’d been so tired after Monday’s incident and all that ‘project grading’ she was doing when classes were over, he’d hardly gotten to see her… Hell, the last time he peeked in on her she’d been fast asleep at her desk.

“Don’t be surprised; I’ve already seen your dick, you know,” she smirked, leering at him. “Besides, it’s been a long day, we could just relax in here together if you wanted.” Dandrane gently patted the rim of the tub, egging him on. 

“‘Relaxing’? Is  _ that  _ what you’re going to call it?” he teased, already loosening his tie - well, it was  _ hers _ , technically, but he had been wearing it for over a month.  

“Can you brush your teeth first, though?” She pointed to the orange toothbrush in the glass on the sink. “No offense, but I tasted curry for hours last time I kissed you.”

His excitement plummeted. That was  _ days  _ ago. “So? You tasted like  _ coffee _ ,” he grumbled, letting his hands drop. She could probably taste like an ashtray and  _ he  _ wouldn’t mind. 

“I know, but those were... _ impromptu _ make-outs. I won’t taste like coffee  _ now _ .” 

Peeves did as she asked, not disliking the minty taste that now swished around in his mouth with the odd feeling of bristles on his teeth, but not exactly enjoying it. His body prevented itself from decay, and he could will away dirt most of the time, so he never  _ had _ to do this before - she could’ve just asked and he would’ve tried to sort it out a lot earlier. She knew he had magic of his own, why she was treating him like he was  _ human _ ?

He felt his stomach sink like a stone.  _ “More human looking than I thought,” _ she had said... She had been pleased enough at the end of their little romp, sure, but that comment bothered him a bit. Especially since she had brought up her concern about what other people would think of them together… Maybe she was still worried about that.

The poltergeist looked at himself in the mirror. He wasn’t bad looking - rather handsome, in his opinion - but he wasn’t exactly Godric Gryffindor. He was thin and blue-skinned, and he knew that if he walked alongside Dandrane rather than floated that he’d appear comically short in comparison. His hair and eyes were fairly normal, he supposed, but he couldn’t even tell if he had pupils amongst the complete blackness of his irises.

No matter how much he resembled one, he  _ wasn’t _ a human being. Dandrane had her pick of those, and he didn’t doubt that she could get anyone she wanted, with her intense eyes set above prominent cheekbones and her clear skin and velvety voice and those fucking _ legs _ ...

He could easily picture her alongside a tall handsome man with biceps thicker than boa constrictors. And here she was, with a _ poltergeist  _ of all things...

What if Dandrane had expectations he couldn’t live up to? 

Peeves spat in the sink. He looked over at the witch in the tub - she was watching him, her eyes dark and inspecting.

“You’re not comfortable, are you?” Dandrane asked carefully. “Your jaw and shoulders are stiff,” she commented as if she were reading his mind.

He stared her down, not sure what to say to that.

“Come here,” she waved a hand, almost gesturing to the floor. When he didn’t move, she added with more of a laugh:  “You can just sit with me. It’s fine.”

He chewed on his tongue. He wanted to go over, but he’d be in such close proximity to her, he would be tempted to just let himself loose… Not to mention, he wasn’t sure if she was ordering him around or not. “Won’t do nothing if you don’t say ‘please’.”

“Ah, the ‘magic word’!” Dandrane seemed to be laughing at some personal joke; her eyes sparkled up at him. “You’re right, though -  _ please  _ come over here? You don’t have to linger if you don’t want to.”

Peeves flew over slowly, knowing full well he was pouting.

A small colorful ball whizzed past him from the opposite side of the room when Dandrane raised her hand. Just as he was about to ask what it was, she dropped it into the tub, and great pink bubbles grew in the water, thick enough and colorful enough to obscure anything beneath them.

“There, now you don’t have to stare awkwardly,” the witch leaned back into the tub, still leaning her arm on the edge. The foam came up to her collarbone. “I’d really rather you tell me if you feel uncomfortable, babe. It’ll be troubling for both of us later if you don’t speak your mind.”

Peeves grumbled an ‘I know’, but he didn’t quite mean it. How was he supposed to tell her he was worried she might dump him for some inane little reason?

“I’m surprised you didn’t wake me up when you came to see me the other day. How  _ considerate  _ of you,” she grinned. “I didn’t know you’d have such nice handwriting. It’s much better than mine.”

Peeves snorted, but he felt his usual grin return at the thought of her scratchy handwriting. “ _ Anyone’s _ better than yours. Yours is like if a chicken stepped in ink.”

She laughed at that, her voice rich. “My old English teacher always said I must’ve written with my nails.”

“ _ English _ ? What, you yanks have to learn your own language in school, now?” Peeves chuckled.

“Pretty much,” she joked, “then again, at least _ I _ learned how to write an essay properly in there. You guys don’t have any sort of literature class, I’m surprised some of these kids can spell at all.” She waited a beat, popping a particularly large bubble in the middle of the tub. “I’m surprised you left me that little note, actually. I thought you would’ve just shaken me awake.”

“And risk your wand getting shoved in my eye?  _ Really _ , Phlegmy...”

“Hey, you’ve done it before. Of course, I didn’t have my wand up my sleeve then… And you know, we’re alone - you can call me ‘Danny’.”

Peeves faltered for a second. He had gotten rather used to calling her ‘Phlegmy’. Even though it just started as a way to try and annoy her, it was almost like a pet name now. ‘Danny’ sounded more personal. “Don’t like hearing ‘Dandrane’, then?”

“My co-workers call me ‘Dandrane’. And Mom, when she’s mad.” She made a sort of jokingly annoyed face. “Everyone else calls me ‘Danny’. ” She eyed him for a beat, suddenly, her gaze softening a bit. “You know, I never asked, but… Do you have a last name?”

“What do you think I am, a ghost?” Peeves popped a bubble near him. Being near her like this was alright, now that he could only see above her shoulders. At least he didn’t feel like his heart was performing a drum solo any more.

“No, just… Curious, I guess.” Dandrane looked at him strangely. “You know…you were created in the castle. You haven’t aged, right?

“Yeah, so?” He felt a sting; just another casual  _ you’re not human _ reminder.

“Well…who named you?”

“ _ I _ did. Who else?”

“Oh…” Dandrane popped another bubble, looking thoughtful. “I sorta wondered if Hogwart’s founders didn’t give you a name of some kind. I mean…they were the first to see you, weren’t they?”

“Yeah, but they dubbed me ‘the little ghost.’ I was the only ghost-like thing  _ here  _ back then, you know,” he said with a twinge of pride. “Until that brat got herself killed, anyway.”

“ _ Brat _ ?” Dandrane was staring at him curiously with a newfound spark of humor. “ _ Ooh _ , sounds ominous. Are they still in the castle? Or is it one that doesn’t live here anymore?”

Peeves sneered, popping another large bubble. “Heh, I  _ wish _ !” He eyed her – she was so hopeful, so  _ curious _ . It was always fun, seeing her eyes light up like fairy lights when she got all excited. Her smooth pink lips had curled into a grin. “What, you can’t  _ guess _ ?”

“Nah, I suck at guessing games,” she smirked back, sitting back on her side so she leaned on the edge of the tub like a balcony.

“‘M not just  _ telling  _ you.” He stuck his tongue out.

“Come on, my whole  _ life’s _ a guessing game. You can give me  _ one _ little answer. Pretty please?”

“What do I  _ get  _ if I told you?”

“A kiss, maybe?” Dandrane leaned forwards, propping her head in one of her wet hands. “What would you like?  _ Aside  _ from me - you could have that any time,” she said with a wink.

Peeves ignored the warm feeling broiling beneath his collar. Even if he felt weird about living up to any unheard-of expectations the witch might have, he still sort of wanted to do it all with her anyway. Risky but rewarding.  _ Too risky,  _ he chided himself as he shoved the perverted thoughts aside. 

He began to wrack his brain, mimicking her sitting position, only he floated inches above the ground rather than sat on the bathmat. Material goods would be nice, but he could always find whatever he needed lying around the school most of the time... Those pepper imps she had given him on Halloween had been  _ super _ spicy, they were a good option… “Oh, I know! How about you let me keep this?” He tugged at the purple tie around his neck.

“No  _ way _ , that’s my favorite one! Well, that and the pink, but  _ still _ .”

_ Eh, worth a shot. _ A better idea popped up in his head, almost out of nowhere. Yes… Yes,  _ that  _ would do. 

“Weelllll… What was that game we played before? Quid-something-something?” 

“You mean  _ quid pro quo _ ?”

“Yeah, that! A question for a question,” he grinned.

“Alright, you’re on,” Dandrane stuck out her wet hand for him to shake, the lime green nail polish gleaming in the candlelight. He grabbed it, and she shook it firmly like they were doing a business deal, but as she pulled away, her fingers trailed over his palm deliberately slow, sending a tingle up his spine that seemed to linger even after she’d withdrawn her hand. He remembered how soft and  _ firm  _ those fingers had felt wrapping around his -

“It’s the Grey Lady,” he said suddenly, snapping himself out of the stupor he was falling into.  

“What, the Ravenclaw house-ghost?”

“Mm-hm. The Bloody Baron arrived shortly after she did.”

“He did, huh…” Ah, she was getting that  _ research  _ look. “ _ How _ shortly after?” 

Peeves grinned. He knew she’d be interested. “Not until you answer  _ my  _ question _. _ ” He fished around in his head for things he was curious about. He was saving the biggest for last, so… “When did you start dying your hair?”

She gave him a flat sort of look, but her eyes still sparkled. “ _ Really _ ? You want to know about my  _ hair _ ?”

“I’m not hearing an ans-wer,” he sang.

“Pfft, fine - I want to say when I was fifteen. Maybe sixteen…” She pondered, tapping her cheekbone with one finger. “No, wait, it  _ was  _ fifteen, I had a streak in my hair the first time - it was yellow, if I remember right, right next to the part I shaved off,” Dandrane said with a grin, moving her hand down the side of her head. “Right there. I should show you that picture sometime, actually; my hair was long and I looked like crap, but I bet you’d like it.” 

It was hard to picture her with long hair, let alone with only a  _ streak  _ of unnatural color. He got so used to seeing her in pink, he couldn’t imagine any other way. It was like suggesting her eyes had changed color over time, too. “You  _ know  _ I would. And it was a few weeks after - month, at most.”

“Why do you refer to her as a brat? She seemed kind of stuck-up when I tried to talk to her, but I didn’t think it warranted  _ that  _ label.” 

Oh,  _ right _ , Lady Ravenclaw had mentioned Dandrane talking to her before. Something about a fire… “What did you ask her when you tried to talk to her?”

“I think I asked if she could move through lit fireplaces, after a bit into our...well, I can’t really call it a  _ conversation _ . I almost thought she was mute or something, she just  _ stared  _ at me at first,” the witch wrinkled her nose. “Probably thought I was  _ up  _ to something, just because it was late... She ended up giving me one-or-two-word answers to a few questions, though, like ‘are you the Grey Lady’ and ‘where am I’. When I asked about the fireplaces she just said ‘yes’ before gliding away.” 

Peeves snickered. “Sounds like her. Snobby little thing, isn’t she? Has a stick shoved firmly up her arse at all times, I tell you - don’t know where she gets it from, her mum wasn’t  _ that  _ bad.” 

“You knew her  _ mom _ ?”

“That’s a hefty question; you sure you want to ask?”

“Wouldn’t have asked otherwise.” She sat there, excited, attentive,  _ grinning _ . 

Peeves hummed a little, pretending to look at the red rubber duck sitting on the edge of the tub farther away; he’d never seen one with pointy horns or menacing eyes before. “So what was your first time on the mat like?” He tried to sound normal, but he knew his voice sounded conspicuous, especially since he couldn’t muster up the will to actually say ‘having sex’. He didn’t think he’d finish his sentence if he had.

“Never heard it put like  _ that  _ before.” He could hear the smirk in her voice. “It was ok,” she said, and he saw her shrugging out of the corner of his eye. “Not surprising, since I was a dumb kid who didn’t know entirely what they were doing, and despite what the guy said at the time, he was too. But first times are usually like that.” She was staring at him, he knew it. He still couldn’t look at her. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

“No.” 

“Then why aren’t you looking at me?”

He didn’t answer.

Dandrane gave a little sigh. “Peeves, I can’t read your mind. Level with me, here.”

He wanted to think about what to say, but his brain was blank and his mouth just took over. “I’m not like your other boyfriends.”

“Well, Peeves, I have something to tell you,” Dandrane said with a clear grin in her voice. “I’m not like other gals.”

“Wow, couldn’t’ve figured  _ that  _ out,” Peeves sneered, finally taking a peek at her.

“No, no, you were supposed to say ‘Of course not, that’s why I like you’,” she leaned back into her hand, playfulness oozing from her. “But really, babe, you’ve never  _ met  _ my other boyfriends. You  _ could  _ be like them, for all you know.” She waited a tick, still seeming to examine him. “You’re  _ not _ , but very few of them have more than one or two things in common, anyway. I think the most they all had in common was that they were around my height and two-thirds of them shared my taste in music.” 

“And they were  _ human _ ,” he shot back. 

“So?” She eyed him carefully, her grin sliding off her face. Those eyes could probably penetrate  _ walls _ . “You didn’t care about that the other day. Especially not when I had my hands down your pants.” 

“You have more experience than I do!” 

“Do I look like the type to care if you’re a virgin?” She raised a brow. 

“ _ No _ , it’s just -!” He forced himself to take a new lungful of air, trying to calm down as his face burned from frustration. He stared at the fuzzy white bath mat underneath him, wondering if talking to it would be easier. “I’ve never done  _ anything _ .”

Peeves felt a hand caress his hair, gently combing through the short slicked locks. Despite it being a little damp, her fingers were warm. “No one’s perfect the first time around, babe - poltergeist or not. It’s okay if you make a mistake or don’t know what you’re doing. That’s my life in a nutshell.” He finally looked back up at her; the too-blue eyes were soft, and a smile hovered at the corners of her mouth. It was nice to hear and  tempting to believe. The genuine care shown in that face shrank the stupid worry not almost nothing. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe he had nothing to worry about. “And as you said, at least you’re not a centaur.”

Peeves felt himself grin back half-way, leaning into the hand petting him. “Imagine  _ that  _ \- a centaur-poltergeist. You’d have a boyfriend that could float through walls  _ and  _ have four legs.”

Dandrane laughed, dropping her arm to lay over the edge of the tub. Within reaching distance. “No way, I’m not into horse-sized penises!”

He dared to reach out and run his fingers over the soft, moist skin of her arm. It was certainly something else, to be able to touch her however he wanted now, and he watched little goosebumps form where he had touched. It was warm and a little wet, and it didn’t seem to sizzle at his skin as much as before. “Here I thought size was  _ everything _ .” 

“Only for fools.” The poltergeist traced over a couple of visible veins, past her elbow, his whole hand sliding up towards her shoulder as he balanced his other elbow next to the arm still sitting on the tub’s edge. “Peeves?”

He could feel the warm air of her breath hit him.  _ Minty _ . “Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

He shot her a look, his hand on her shoulder and the thumb rolling over one of the tiny moles there. “You don’t have to  _ ask,  _ you know.”

“Those are dangerous words, you know,” she smirked, leaning towards him, and Peeves wasn’t sure why he closed his eyes as she kissed him, but it felt like the right thing to do. Warmth spread through him, and he dared to run his hand to the back of her neck as he kissed her back the best he could, her short hair prickling at his fingertips. 

Her outstretched arm wound around his back, and he couldn’t care about the potential dampness it would leave behind - not when her warm lips moved against his mouth like that, her tongue just darting out for bare seconds to tease him. 

His tongue met hers at the same time, and before long both sets of his fingers were winding in her wet hair as she gave the sort of  _ ‘mmm’  _ sound that made him shudder and moan loud into her mouth.

Dandrane suddenly pulled away and turned her head towards the tiny window above her head. Peeves peered around her, curious at what made her stop - a rather large crow sat on the outside ledge, pecking lightly at the window. 

“It figures that the mail would arrive late,” she grumbled. “Ok, hold on, little fella,” she said in a higher sort of voice like she was talking to a pet. She beckoned her wand towards her with a curl of her fist, and it zoomed past Peeves head and straight into her now outstretched fingers. With a wave, the glass in the window vanished, and the crow flew inside to land on the highest part of the tub, the freezing winter air permeating the room and dragging snow inside with it. 

The witch untied the twine holding a dangling envelope from its foot. The purple wax seal shattered as the witch tore open the letter with zero restraint. 

“Who’s it from?”

“A friend from northern Canada. Hopefully, he’s got an answer for me…” Her eyes trailed over the letter so quickly he wondered if she was actually reading it. Peeves decided to peek over it and try to see for himself - the handwriting was oddly uniform, but for some reason the letters were all jumbled up, as if he were reading another language, but it wasn’t one he recognized. 

“It’s enchanted, eh?”

Dandrane frowned partway down the page. “Encryption spell. Only the sender and the recipient can read it - not that it matters...”

Peeves huffed.  _ Fine time to be cryptic. _ “Well, how about cluing me in, then?”

“Sure, but it’s pretty worthless right now.” She shot a look at the crow across from her, its head tilted to one side. “Thank you, sweetie, I’ll reply later.” 

The crow cawed once and flew back out, leaving more snow to fall into the bubble-filled tub. Another wand wave and the window was back in place, but the bites of winter remained. Peeves was certainly no stranger to the Scottish winters, but considering how warm he had felt with Dandrane, the drastic change in temperature made him want to shiver. And want to just forget everything and hop in the tub with her. 

“So, another one of my old school friends lives up in Toronto, and we were talking about rare books during our friend Jill’s reception several months ago. He practically scours the earth for any rare or blacklisted potion  book, even if it’s outdated or he doesn’t plan to use them - he’s found four in the last couple of years, so I asked if he could find me something, too.” She tossed the letter away from them, watching the letter and the envelope sail across the floor and hit the base of the sink. “And he didn’t. What a surprise.”

_ Rare books? What a nerd. _ “What were you looking for?”

“Troy Greidanus’  _ Atrocities of  Azkaban _ . Thousands of copies were destroyed during the first Wizarding War, and they blacklisted it globally for years way before that - there’s only four left in the world, supposedly.” Dandrane grimaced, wiggling her wand between her fingers. “Stupid paranoid asshats, burning any book they could get a hold of… I’ve seen two copies; one’s only got a few pages, and the other’s heavily cursed and stuck in a glass case with no way of actually  _ reading  _ the thing without melting the eyeballs out of your sockets. I don’t know where the other two are, or what language they’re in… I was hoping Siv would find one. Or at least hear a  _ rumor _ . You know,  _ something _ . But  _ nope _ !”

The cogs in Peeves head were whirling, faded memories trying to piece themselves into a coherent picture whilst he absorbed the fleeting bits of magic that pilfered the air. Hadn’t he heard or seen the name Greidanus somewhere before? He could’ve  _ sworn _ ... “How did you see  _ two _ , then?” 

She huffed. “It was taken off the American blacklist in 1998. The cursed one is in a museum in New York, the other copy was put in a Brazilian library when it was discovered in ‘99. I wouldn’t call it  _ seeing _ , though. More of  _ glimpsing _ .” 

“Aw, poor Phlegmy, not able to read a dull little diary,” he teased with a grin, reaching out to pat her flat, wet hair. “There, there.”

“But you don’t understand, Peeves - I  _ need  _ to see that book. I don’t know how many Dementors there were originally, or what the inside of the prison looked like before they converted it, or  _ anything _ . It could be quite a breakthrough…” She drummed her chin with all four fingers, eyes narrowed down at the mass of bubbles still floating around her slumped figure. 

“Breakthrough? Don’t tell me you think those cloak-wearing sad-sacks are  _ ghosts _ .”

“No, no - I’m curious as to how they’re  _ made _ .” She popped a few more bubbles, stabbing them with her nails. “It’s like trying to figure out how  _ you  _ were made. I think there are similarities.”

“...between me and  _ Dementors _ . You’re serious.”

“Yeah.” The blue depths stared at him, excitement glinting in the candlelight. “Think about it. You both come out of seemingly nowhere, you both take on a sort of human shape, you both don’t need water or food to live - everyone knows Dementors take your happiness like they’re sucking it up with a straw.”

Peeves felt his grin sliding away. She  _ was  _ serious. “Oh, yeah? What about  _ me _ , then?”

“Well, you absorb the energy that people give off in fits, right?” Her wand floated away to perch itself on the edge of the sink, and she leaned towards him again, intense and excited. “You told me you could tell the emotions of a magical person near you.”

“Most of the time. People can hold it in, too - in  _ your  _ case I have to go by your  _ face _ .”

“Yes,  _ exactly _ ,” she nodded. “Adults control their magic easier than kids do - that’s why they have accidents more often when they’re upset, don’t they? That’s what you're sensing all the time -  _ magic _ . It’s all influenced by people’s emotions, and you eat whatever we let go. I don’t know exactly how you get it, but I’m guessing you sort of draw it in somehow.”

“Eh, close enough.” More like  _ exactly _ . The fact that she knew made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

“Yeah, now imagine that -” she scooped up a handful of bubbles - “this represents a person’s magic. Now, people make new magic every day - we’d all become incapable of doing wand-work after a week if we didn’t - so this is just  _ one  _ day’s, but still. When someone’s really upset, magic is released without their knowledge - usually something rattles or knocks over, say, as a consequence. And the magic just -” she blew a few of the large bubbles away, letting them drift into the air - “floats away. Maybe it sticks to a nearby object, maybe it just hovers there, maybe it falls to the ground.”  _ Almost right _ , Peeves thought. “But now a person has to generate more to replace what they lost.” She pointed to the missing chunk of bubbles in her hand. “That’s why I was exhausted after Monday - I use magic every day, so it took longer to regenerate all the missing bubbles.”

“Already knew that, Ph- _ Danny _ .” It felt strange, using her first name so casually.

“I know, I’m getting around to my point,” She said, beaming. “So you eat the bubbles people give out - and I think Dementors do, too, sort of. You ever been around them before?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I told you before they’d been here.”

“Right… See, this is why I record things. You never said how they affected you - I would’ve remembered  _ that… _ ”

Peeves shrugged. “Not much. It gets damn cold, really.” He thought back to when the pair had entered the castle, gliding their way up to Sirius’ tower with Fudge leading the way on the grand staircase; he had hovered far above them, close to the ceiling, watching for a minute. He had thought about following them, but Fudge had told the pair to wait until his say so, there was no use sticking around for hours of nothing... There had been such a weird feeling… “Bit dizzying, too, but only if I get too close.”

“Hm… Dizzying how?”

“I don’t know, just… Kinda like the first time I used Floo powder with you. Like something tugging at me.” The travelling was a relatively unpleasant memory, but he did like being that close to Dandrane. Peeves wished she would wear that leather jacket again sometime so she could actually hold him properly in it.  _ I wonder if it still smells like syrup... _

“Sounds like it affects you, too, to a degree... Except with me, my magic would go -” she clapped her hands together, leaving only two bubbles remaining - “like that. Hardly anything left in no time at all. That’s why people get so depressed when they’re near one, it’s the only feeling  _ left _ .”

“What, you think they just suck all the magic from you in a snap?”

“Pretty much, at least all the livelier varieties. I think they have a unique ability - they can drain magic almost instantly, but only within a certain radius. The more there are, the bigger the radius.”

“Okay, but you know I don’t go around eating people’s  _ happiness _ ,” he stuck out his tongue. “That’s too cheesy for me.”

“Yes, I thought about that… But you eat  _ outbursts _ . Anger, frustration, anguish, any variation on the kind - these are all what you get out of people, right?”

Peeves blinked, eyeing her. She was a real smart cookie, wasn’t she? How did she figure all that out just by his little hint? “Maybe.”

Dandrane grinned, looking pleased with herself. “So you two have that in common: your century-old beings who eat magic, all influenced by a person’s emotions. That, and you both float.”

“Pfft, at least I can move in three dimensions. And I don’t get chased away by someone’s  _ spirit animal _ .”

The witch chuckled. Her eyes always seemed to sparkle when she did that… “True. You’ve got a lot of differences, but my point is the same.”

“So what does this all have to do with my creation?”

“Well, I don’t know exactly - that’s what I want to find out. Obviously it has to do with emotional magic, but magic has a habit of attaching itself to things…” She eyed him; he could feel her enthusiasm radiate from her. “You can’t create something from nothing, Peeves. Magic is raw and channeled through wands or the Earth or our bodies, but it doesn’t come from  _ nowhere _ . There’s no way you're just a being of pure energy - not with a solid body like  _ that _ ,” she gave a smarmy sort of smirk as she ghosted her fingers through part of his hair, barely touching his ear. “Especially not one with such a fun personality.”

“You flatterer. Are you trying to get something out of me?” He teased. 

“J'accuse!” Dandrane gave a dramatic gasp and brought her hand to her chest. Peeves couldn’t help but look; there were a lot less bubbles covering her now. “I’ll have you know I’m a very honest girl!”

The poltergeist snorted into giggles. 

She grinned back. “But really, I wasn’t trying to get anything out of you, babe. I like you too much to try and pull one over on you. Unlike  _ you _ , who’s avoided answering my big question.”

Oh. He’d forgotten about that. He’d been distracted, first by her lips and then by her little Dementor rant. “You mean about the bratty ghost’s mum?”

“Yeah, that.”

Peeves wasn’t quite sure how to begin. He didn’t remember ever telling  _ anybody  _ about the Founders before, let alone his relationship with them. Sure, he mentioned them to Dandrane before, but those were tiny things, inconsequential details… He knew if he shortened the answer, she’d want more details, and he would be very tempted to elaborate. It was easy to tease her, but it was hard to resist those icy blue eyes when her entire concentration was on him, all excited and invested…

“Actually, hold on, I’m going to get out - if I sit in this stuff any more my skin might get dyed, too.” Dandrane made to stand by bracing her hands on the edge of the tub, and Peeves immediately turned around and floated closer to the door. Not that it helped - he could still hear the water splash heavily as she stood, and he had a damn good idea of what she must look like. He heard a rustle and snap of fabric.

“It was Rowena Ravenclaw,” he said, trying to concentrate on anything but the mental image of the pink-haired witch in nothing but a towel. “Helena Ravenclaw is the Grey Lady.”

“So what makes Helena such a brat?” Dandrane’s rich voice echoed after him. “I heard Rowena was pretty damn proud.”

Everyone said that. It was true, of course, and Helena inherited  _ that  _ trait, if anything, and Peeves felt a twinge of annoyance at the thought. “Yeah, but  _ she _ had a sense of humor.” 

“ _ Ah _ . You liked her.”

“Ugh, don’t be gross!” Peeves stuck out his tongue and gagged, even though she couldn’t see him. “She was  _ strict _ .”

“I didn’t mean  _ romantically _ ,” Dandrane chuckled. “I’m guessing Helena was always a brat in your eyes?”

“Definitely. Snobby little thing from day one, but she just got  _ worse  _ when she was older. You know she tried dueling her mother in the castle a few times? Kept trying to out-do her,  _ constantly  _ made things a competition, like she could’ve ever  _ won _ . Wasn’t up to snuff, of course, but she even tried to stop the changing staircases once.” He grinned, one of the oldest memories he had, while fuzzy with age, popped up - mostly because it was one of the funniest tantrums Helena had ever thrown, and he never wanted to forget it. “The look on their faces was  _ fantastic _ .”

“...I’m guessing Rowena was the one who enchanted the stairs?”

“Got to admit, stairs make a great joke even now,” Peeves said with a snicker. 

“Well at least I know who to blame for the layout. Did she also make that staircase that leads nowhere?”

“No, Helga liked the idea so much she made additions.” 

It was like the picture had formed part-way in his mind’s eye. There was only a handful of places Peeves must have seen that silly name in recent years, and they were all Helga’s little holes in the wall. And in particular…

“Danny, I’m going to have to cut this conversation short.”

“Huh...? Why?” Dandrane paused. “Was it something I said?”

“Nope!” Peeves grinned, floating out into the bedroom, not daring to turn around, lest he change his mind. “I’m going to get you an early Christmas present.”

He zoomed away, hearing her call after him as he shifted through floors, heading towards the one place he always,  _ always  _ hid things.

*~*~*~*~*

He wasn’t quite sure how long he had taken, but Peeves knew it was late when he saw Dandrane’s bed-curtains drawn with no hint of light behind them. The little glowing moon-and-star hands on her clock told him it was just past six in the morning. 

He supposed he  _ had  _ taken a while, as he had gotten distracted by not just a passer-by, but by the contents of his little collection of banned things, the majority of which he had neglected looking at for years. Some of them were broken, and a few beyond anyone’s repair, but that was okay - it was the principle of the thing, really, it only mattered that he  _ had  _ them. The banned book in his hands was a good example. He wasn’t the scholarly type (far from it), but how could he let a book that had been slandered as dark and forbidden get tossed away so suddenly? Just because it was a  _ rule _ ?  _ Ha _ !

Peeves pushed the cream-colored curtains aside. Sure enough, Dandrane was snoozing away, buried under a pile of blankets. She looked awfully peaceful, lying there with only even breaths to break the quiet atmosphere. “Hey, Dannnnyyyy,” he whispered, gently shaking her shoulder. 

The woman snuggled deeper into her pillow.

“Danny, I’ve got something for you,” he said with a grin, poking her exposed cheek as carefully as possible. This seemed to work - she winced and shivered. “You awake?”

She barely opened her eyes, squinting into the darkness, and shut them again. “Peeves, I have class tomorrow,” she said groggily.

“This is more important.” Her skin was  _ really  _ soft… He couldn’t help but run his finger over her jaw, feeling the little soft hairs tickle him as she shivered below it. 

She squinted at him, dark circles under her eyes. She must’ve stayed up late. “Cheater. Fine, hold still for a sec,” she grumbled and dug her hand under her pillow. Her wand was pointed straight at his chest, and she made a sort of circular motion. “ _ Concalefacio _ .” 

Warmth bloomed from where her wand pointed - heat crawled over him, starting at the center of his ribcage and going every which way until he felt like he was standing in one of the greenhouses in spring. Or that he’d been sitting snuggled against Dandrane for a good long time. 

The witch sighed, apparently content with her wand-work. “Okay, hop in.”

Peeves was tempted to take her literally and actually plop himself down on the mattress, but he knew better than to act on the impulse when she was clearly still tired. Instead, he pulled back the covers in a big wave, letting some of her warm air out, and wriggled himself under the layers of blankets and sheets until he was next to her with the covers over his shoulders. Her back faced him, but he didn’t mind - he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to be as close to her as possible, so he shuffled towards her, feeling the heat radiate from her flannel-clad back despite his newfound warmth. 

“Man, you let all the cold air in,” she grumbled, seeming to curl into herself more. 

Peeves grinned, both out of his usual glee at causing discomfort and the idea that popped into his head. His arm snuck around her waist - the shirt she wore was thick and soft, and it felt so nice to touch he couldn’t help but run his fingers over it. “Is this better?” 

Dandrane chuckled into her pillow. Why did her laughs always sound so alluring? “Only a  _ little _ .”

The poltergeist pressed harder against her back and moved his hand farther up her torso, daring to stop just below her bust with his arm wedged under hers. He could feel his ribs and hips grind gently into her back, warmth flowing into him. “How about now?” 

“Better,” she sighed. 

Peeves snickered and curled a leg around her hip - she wasn’t wearing any bottoms. Because of course she wasn’t.  _ Is she part polar bear or something? _

“That’s much better,” she sighed, making the poltergeist feel warm all over. “So...why did you wake me up in the middle of the night?”

“It’s past  _ six _ .” 

Dandrane groaned in discomfort. “Fuck.”

“You don’t have to get up yet, at least,” Peeves said, deciding to snuggle further into her back. “You could always  _ read  _ something.”

“...but I don’t want to  _ get up _ . That’s the problem.”

Peeves grinned. “Well, I guess Azkaban’s history remaining unseen for another hour won’t hurt.”

She went still for a moment. “...what?” A beat, and she relaxed again. “Oh, I get it. Really funny.”

“Not joking,” he said plainly, tracing one of her ribs underneath the plaid nightshirt. “I  _ told  _ you I was getting you a present.”

Dandrane craned her neck around to try and look at him. He just grinned back at her. “You’re serious.”

“It’s literally a foot away from you.”

The witch pulled her blankets aside and sat up, first pulling back the curtains to look at the nightstand, then turning towards him and staring at the block next to his feet. Peeves remained cozy under her bedclothes, watching her every move, not really liking having to let her go but enjoying the surprised look as her eyes locked onto his little gift. She didn’t have to reach far to grab it.

It was wondrous to see her so unbelieving and so hopeful as she pulled the book into her lap. She slid the purple tie off, letting it fall to the mattress as she tapped the book’s cover, first with with her thumb, and then with her wand, keeping her eyes locked on it like it would just tell her if it had been cursed or not as she mumbled something. (Peeves knew it wasn’t - cursed objects always felt funny to him.) When nothing happened, the oil-lamp on her bedside table flared to life with a snap of her fingers, and she pulled aside the flimsy four-poster curtain just enough to see it. She said nothing as she carefully flipped through the first few pages, then skipped to a random page in the middle, and then a few pages close to the end, not really reading so much as scanning. Her eyes seemed to glow as she finally shut the book and stared at it with a quiet reverence.

“Where did you get this?”

“What, you expected me to let people throw away forbidden goodies?” He sat up out of his cozy position just to lean against her shoulder. “I’ve got a nice pile built up, you know.”

“You’re really giving it to me?” 

Peeves felt a jolt go through him as she turned those too-blue eyes on him. He couldn’t speak at first - not with her looking at him like that. Even without any hint of make-up, even with her hair lank and ruffled, even clad in nothing but a plaid button-down shirt, she managed to look like the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and she was looking at him like he was the most awe-worthy thing in the universe. “‘Course.”

She shifted, the springs in the mattress squealing in protest, and he knew what she was going to do the moment her arms reached out to wrap around him. He was still surprised, though, to find himself pressed against her chest in a very warm hug. 

“Peeves, you’re the  _ best _ !” She exclaimed, kissing his hair several times. She pulled back, her face beaming excitedly, eyes shining with happiness, and bent to kiss his cheek. “ _ The _ fucking best!” She seemed to grip him like he was going to slip away as she kissed him again, and Peeves felt like his heart would burst as she trailed her lips quickly to his and kissed him so hard he felt like he might see stars. 

Dandrane pulled back, almost maniacally happy. “And if anyone ever tells you otherwise, I’ll punch them in the face!”

“Might as well go punch Filch now, then, to get a head start,” he quipped, and she snorted a laugh. 

“Man, I just… I  _ adore  _ you, you know,” she said, stroking his arms. “Fuck, man, you’re  _ magnificent _ .” 

“Oh, stop it, you big lug,” Peeves waved off, though truthfully he wanted the opposite. 

“You gave my tie back, too,” she commented, eying the orange bow-tie he now wore again. “I thought I’d have to seduce it off you.”

“What, you mean strip me and take it back?” 

“Pretty much.” 

“Damn, I knew I should’ve kept it,” Peeves said with a playful huff.

Dandrane tilted his chin up, a gleam in her eye. “Don’t be so disappointed, I could still do it.”  She kissed him slower this time, but still rather fevered, and Peeves returned it happily, sliding himself closer. “But not until I’m done reading,” she said after she pulled away, letting her fingers ghost down his front.

“Oh come  _ on _ , Danny,” he pouted, even as the warmth from her hand sparked fresh excitement in his loins. There was no way she’d be disappointed in him right now if she got this excited over a slightly moldy book. This was his best chance of getting further without having to worry himself over it. 

“Babe, I  _ know  _ me - I’m going to be obsessing over this thing for  _ days _ . I need to get it out of my system before I can concentrate on... _ other _ areas,” she looked significantly at his lap with an arrogant sort of smile; her fingers brushed gently over the top of his thigh, and Peeves felt like just throwing himself on top of her. “Though I  _ am  _ tempted to just blow you until you can’t remember your name.”

Dandrane made a sort of conducting motion with her arm, and the four-poster curtains all flew open with a ‘thwap’. “But that’s for  _ another  _ time.” She still made no attempt to be modest - she just got up and walked to her wardrobe like the floor wasn’t freezing cold stone. 

“I’m beginning to think you’re all  _ talk _ , Danny.”

“You  _ wish _ ,” she flashed a smile over her shoulder as she sorted through a very unkept amount of clothes. “I just want things to be perfect for you.”

She did? “Why?”

“Well it’s no fun if we rush it,” she said casually, pausing to contemplate a turtleneck. “Sex should happen naturally, but also when we know we both won’t be interrupted by anything or have other things on our minds. And as I wasn’t kidding when I said I was going to obsessing over that,” she gestured her thumb at the book lying squarely on the covers. “I’m going to be re-reading it and making notes for  _ days _ , you know.”

“Too obsessed to see me?”

She paused, a few things thrown on her arm, and smiled at him knowingly. “Did I say you had to avoid me?” The wardrobe shut with a ‘clunk’. “I’m just warning you, I’ll be absorbed in that thing. But it doesn’t mean I don’t want you around. I love seeing you, you know. Makes the days here a  _ lot  _ less gloomy.”

She used the L-word. She really used it. She  _ loved  _ seeing him. 

“Gotta say, that was one thing I really didn’t miss about living in Canada. All that gloomy winter weather… But at least there I could borrow a car and go to a pizza joint when I felt like it.” Dandrane leaned against the wardrobe with a huff. “You know the kitchens won’t make it? These poor kids have never had pizza nights… Actually, you haven’t, either, have you?” Her eyes widened. “Oh _ God _ , you’ve never eaten buffalo wings...” He knew that look - she had an idea. A good one, apparently, because she was soon sitting back down on the mattress and beaming like a lighthouse. “Peeves, would you like to have dinner with me - say Friday or Saturday?” 

“Like a date?” He asked hopefully.

“Yeah - I can use the Floo to bring stuff back, I’ll have to go see where the nearest pizza place is first, but  _ oh my God _ , Peeves, you are going to fucking  _ love _ it! Oh man, I’m probably going to have to get two, and like, three different dipping sauces… And I’m kind of craving brownies, so maybe those… But shit, who cares, I can tell you everything I’ve found useful in this thing,” she said, giving the book a quick pat. 

“You sure you won’t have to  _ grade  _ anything?”

Her expression faltered for a moment. “Well, I don’t set my exams until next week… But I still have time to write them all out, it’s no biggie. And, I mean, I always have to grade  _ something _ .”

“Danny, are you slacking off?” Peeves teased. 

“Maybe a  _ little _ . But come on, I need a break, I’ve finally got my energy back and I have half the tests planned anyway, and I know what they’re going to review already, taking some time off won’t hurt.” She rolled her eyes, still grinning. “Come on, I’ve been doing this job for five years, I know what I’m doing.”

*~*~*~*~*

_ She’s late. _

The student’s desks weren’t the most comfortable place to sit, but Peeves could freely swing his legs to and fro on it, so he didn’t really care too much. He’d been waiting for ages, it seemed - he waited all day, since her little paper airplane had poked him squarely in the back that morning. It had said to meet her at seven-thirty; the coo-coo clock ticking away on her classroom wall said it was almost eight. 

He’d sat there for two minutes before he started snooping through her desk drawers - just for fun, really - but once he had gotten bored he’d just fallen back to blowing gum-bubbles and thinking. 

His thoughts went all over the place, but it seemed like every fifth thought was about the pink-haired witch. It wasn’t  _ too  _ unusual - he’d seen her almost every night this week, usually lying or sitting next to her or as near her as possible while she read and scribbled notes with a muggle pen (apparently, it was easier to concentrate with a quill, but faster to write without). He’d read over her shoulder a few times, but usually when he was borrowing her “cassette” player or the record player to listen to whatever she had on hand. Muggle music was so  _ weird _ , so  _ noisy _ ...he  _ loved  _ it. He’d heard some of the songs before, as kids had brought records from home for  _ years _ , but he had never heard so many different ways to play the electric guitar, let alone so much variety of tone and style in music. He rather wished Hogwarts had electricity so he could try playing some - even if he didn’t quite get every reference they sang about. (Dandrane had to explain what Beatlemania was at one point, as Peeves could only vaguely remember the band being mentioned before, and he had no idea who ‘Rudie’ was, either.)

It’d been so nice, being able to trace curvy lines on her legs and arms with his fingers when he felt like it. She’d gotten pleasantly distracted by it, and they ended up having some nice little make-out sessions. He was still adjusting to the feel of it, but he felt he’d come quite a long way from drooling in her lap, even if she continued to surprise him and get him off guard… 

Of course, if he was being really honest, it’d been nice just to  _ talk  _ to her for so long. She gave him one or two details about her very messy notes - all of which were through complaints - but what really intrigued him was her stories on previous ghost hunts. Some ended up being complete wastes of time, but she always had something funny happen that made the story worth telling. His favorite was how her team-mates had been excitedly recording audio of “poltergeist activity” in a fairly vacant bed-and-breakfast, only to find out that it had just been Dandrane chasing a cord-chewing raccoon through the dining room.

_ What’s taking her so long?  _

The little clock on her wall suddenly moved, and Peeves pink bubble popped. The little glass door opened, and a bright yellow finch appeared on the tiny perch that stretched out into the air, and it gave short little “coo-coo” chirps for every hour. 

The door swung open and banged against the wall near the curly staircase, and for a moment all Peeves could see of Dandrane was the rugged boot she had kicked the door open with. 

She peeked over the railing, her little sunglasses glinting in the light from the chandelier, and a grin bloomed on her face at the sight of him. “Hey, babe! Sorry I’m late!” The witch took the steps down two at a time, two large flat boxes and a bulky bag in her arms. Peeves pulled three more desks towards him to make a square surface for them, sticking his wad of gum underneath the farthest desk and pulling a chair up for her.

“Oh hey, thanks.  _ Ugh _ , you wouldn’t believe how many places I had to run to today - and that was after I spend two more hours working on those exams! Tourist crap was expensive as shit, too, I swear looking at those price tags killed half my Christmassy cheer... And then I had to ask around for what the best pizza place was, and  _ God  _ I hate not being able to apparate around here, I had to sneak on the train just to get there.”

“You snuck aboard?” Peeves grinned at her as a delicious aroma filled the air. Dandrane pulled out a huge plastic bottle of fizzy brown liquid and two boxes of something undoubtedly spicy from the thin bag on her arm. “You little  _ rebel _ .”

“Well, I mean, you just leap over the bar when no one’s looking. And you’re sure the camera’s pointed the other way.” She quirked a smirk at him, and the poltergeist felt his heart flutter. “Not the first time I’ve done that. Doesn’t matter, though, since I just apparated back to the Leaky Cauldron’s alley and used their fireplace to get back.” 

“So that’s why you’re so late?”

“I also made a couple of phone calls.” Dandrane morphed the now-empty bag into a drinking glass with a wave of her wand. “Mom doesn’t like fire-calls, and what I had to ask was a bit too urgent to write to her about.” 

“What’d you ask her?”

“Pizza first.” Dandrane tossed her long overcoat onto a nearby desk and removed her gloves so fast Peeves almost missed it. “So this one’s just pepperoni - you can’t go wrong with it, it’s a classic -” She opened the nearest large box, and the smell of bread and cooked cheese was almost overwhelming - “and the other one’s got everything good on it. Olives, onions, sausage, more pepperoni, mushrooms, bacon, and I think I asked for banana peppers… That guy who recommended the place better be right, or I’m going to go back and make him pay for these.” 

The pizza was hot, and the piece he had chosen to leave it’s brethren, apparently, as the cheese stretched to a ridiculous length, but the taste was like nothing Peeves had ever had before. It melted in his mouth and made him feel warm all over. 

“I’m guessing by that glowing look on your face that you like it?”

“‘Mazing,” was all Peeves could manage to say with his mouth full. 

Dandrane beamed and took a piece for herself. “Shit, that  _ is  _ good. I’m really glad I left a five-pound tip now… Anyway,  _ Mom  _ \- I had to ask her about how a body decays in a moist climate.”

Peeves snorted into his bite. It was hard to swallow food when giggling, but he managed to do it. “You asked your  _ mom  _ that?”

Dandrane crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair, shifting her glasses to perch in-between some of her spikes of hair, blinking a few times. “Yeah, she knows more about that stuff than I do - she’s a mortician.”

It was like something had finally clicked, and Peeves grinned wide. “So THAT’S why you’re so obsessed with dead things!”

The witch looked thoughtful. “Well, I certainly blamed her for it for a long time,” she said with a slightly bitter tone, “but it really wasn’t her fault. Besides, dead bodies and ghosts are two different things.”

“Oh, come on, what’d she  _ do _ , then?”

“Well,” Dandrane said in-between bites, “nothing, really. It just happened that the funeral home she worked at was fairly close to our house, so Dad and I would go bring her lunch almost every day, and we always  _ walked  _ there. Our backyard was this sort of sloping nest of trees, and there’s a road that goes by it, so one day, we were halfway to the funeral home, Dad was carrying me, and I looked down into the woods - I saw a woman literally walk through a tree. Dad says I didn’t stop crying until we got to the funeral home.”

“You  _ cried _ ?”

“Dude, I was  _ four _ , of course I cried! Never saw that ghost again, though - I went back and looked a lot when I was older. It was how Kay and I became friends, she was the only person in elementary school who really believed me,” Dandrane smiled fondly. “She swore she saw it once, too, when she was going home one day - it had the same hair.”

Another piece of the Dandrane-puzzle clicked into place. “It was a  _ muggle’s  _ ghost?”

“Ding ding! Someone give this man a prize!”Dandrane raised her make-shift glass of fizzy drink to no one, smiling like he’d brought Christmas morning early. “I  _ knew  _ you’d get it! Everyone else always told me it must’ve been a witch, but I  _ know  _ \- that thing was see-through, but it was  _ definitely  _ not gray. Every magical ghost I’ve seen is gray-ish silver.”

Peeves chewed on his second slice of pizza, which had been cut a lot larger than the last. “So why did no one believe you?”

“‘Because everybody knows only wizards can become ghosts’,” Dandrane quoted in a high, mocking voice. “Everyone in elementary school thought I was just making it up to scare them or get attention. But the real kicker was my second-year Defense teacher back at Bayard - she was a  _ total  _ asshole. She told me I was wrong, told me I was remembering it incorrectly, and  _ then  _ told me I was lying when I wouldn’t stop talking about it. Almost no one believed me after that class...” Dandrane took a sip of her drink. “I lit her desk on fire, though, so it sort of evened out.”

Peeves cackled, having to cover his mouth to stop the wad of food from spewing on the desk. He choked, and Dandrane patted him on the back until he was done and could swallow again. “You really  _ did  _ that?!”

“Accidentally, yeah. I was only eleven, and I was pretty pissed at her ‘losing’ one of my tests, so... _ fwoosh _ ,” Dandrane wiggled her fingers in an imitation of a flame.

Peeves snickered, knowing exactly what the teacher’s expression must have looked like and wanting to see just a minute of the chaos it must’ve created. “So why did you need to ask about decaying corpses, then?”

“Oh, that - that’s much more interesting.” Dandrane scooted closer, eagerness written all over her face. “So you know that when Azkaban Island was first discovered, there was almost fifty Dementors inhabiting the tower, right? Well, they didn’t have a real firm count of the bodies, since the Dementors kept swarming, but it’s estimated at about three or four-hundred. A lot of them were nothing but bone, but some were mummified. At the time, they had no way of knowing how long the bodies had been there, so they just assumed it was a result of some of the experimental mutations that had been mentioned in the guy’s notes - you know, Ekradis or whatever-his-name-was. The last record of a missing ship in that area was ten years before what’s-his-name’s death, and even assuming they all died within the first year, _nobody’s_ body can dry out _that much_ within such a short amount of time on an island in the middle of an ocean. The expedition to the island only took a month, so that doesn’t help the time factor, either.”

“What, you think they were  _ drained  _ somehow?”

“The thought occurred to me,” Dandrane said, “but I’m pretty sure they were just mutated. I just wanted to double-check that it was scientifically impossible first. By the way,” Dandrane paused and opened a little tub of white, chunky sauce, “try dipping your crust in the blue cheese, it’s awesome.”

Peeves dunked the end of his pizza slice into the blue-specked goop - she was right, it was even tastier. “So muggles eat this stuff all the time?”

“Well, it is sort of a staple, now, so yeah, I’d say so. Especially back home - I think I only met two people in my life who didn’t eat pizza. Why, are you jealous?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Peeves said with a playful glare. “You lot are lucky bastards.”

Dandrane chuckled and handed him her glass. “You should try Coke next, it’s another staple - Pepsi’s good, too, but they were out of that.”  

It gave him a light prickling feeling on his tongue, but the taste was sweet, and he couldn’t say he’d ever had anything like it. “It’s so  _ weird _ .”

“That’s just the carbonation.”

“No, the  _ flavor _ .”

“Good, though, right? It’s really good with vanilla ice cream.” The witch popped open the second pizza box, and it was covered with so much stuff Peeves could hardly see the mozzarella beneath it. “But even despite the whole mummy-thing, I came to some very interesting conclusions.”

“R’ly?” Peeves said mid-bite - the different flavors all mingling on his tastebuds were really something else, going from earthy to mild to spicy with each taste.

“There was some interesting notes later in the book about how Dementors become agitated at the prospect or lack of food - or emotional magic, really, as my theory goes. But anyway, in the book they mentioned that if a Dementor was told that their Kiss execution would be delayed or dismissed that the atmosphere became even  _ colder _ , and that if it was going to go ahead as planned, the Dementor would glide around the subject’s cell more. Dementors are positioned at the entrances of every floor, and they always have one go around the cells every few hours - and I  _ know  _ that practice was still in effect before they all ran off. So our buddy Troy described these emotions as ‘angry’ and ‘pleased’, but I don’t take it that way. What Troy described as ‘angry’ is really just the Dementor attempting to get more magic out of the closest person’s body to feed itself so it doesn’t starve - the same thing goes for ‘pleased’, but I figure they do it as a sort of last-minute tasting before they get to eat the main course.”

“So they don’t feel _ anything _ ?”

“I seriously doubt it, yeah.”

“What a rot,” Peeves said with a sneer. “Takes all the fun out of life.” 

“Agreed,” Dandrane grinned. “I also found out that they all communicate with magic users by sign language, and they’ve  _ never  _ indicated their own emotions on matters. They just give details on how prisoners are - Troy even mentioned that a Dementor can sign if a prisoner is in their cell, or their living status, but the only emotional indicator they’ve ever given is if the Dementor is  _ hungry _ . There were some accounts of prisoners being held before trials, and Dementors had to give little reports to the investigators or whoever was in charge, and ‘hungry’ was the only thing they answered with when one uber-polite guy asked how the Dementor guards were. I guess souls are tastier than extruded magic.” Dandrane took another large bite - Peeves was surprised she could eat while talking about a gruesome specter eating souls. Other people would’ve turned pale...or green. “And I figured out something big, too:  Dementors are born from corpses.”

He had no words. Or at least, nothing he could make sense of. He’d never heard of how they reproduced, but… “ _ Born _ . From  _ corpses _ .”

Her eyes flashed excitedly as she turned towards him. “Yeah, think about it - you literally have a ten-foot tower with no living creatures for miles, aside from a wizard who’s out of his fucking mind and at least a couple hundred prisoners who are starving, hopeless, and wounded in more ways than one,  _ all  _ sitting on death row. Where else do they come from? And what a coincidence that they always seem to increase in number after a person’s died, usually after a  _ murder! _ Just think, all the hopeless, depressed,  _ mourning _ -fueled magic seeping into the nearest object - which happens to be a  _ body _ . It’s why they always appear after a death, it’s why they look like flying rotting corpses in death-shrouds, and it’s why they make people so damn dreary!” Dandrane slapped the table in emphasis, like it solidified her thought.

“So...if a prisoner died in his cell in Azkaban, would that make  _ another  _ Dementor?”

“Potentially. I guess it would depend on how long the body stays there and absorbs the magic around it, which would be difficult considering the Dementors would be sucking it all up. If we’re talking pre-prison Azkaban, though, I’d say  _ definitely  _ \- according to the diary entries of the only non-silent original investigator, each holding cell had more than one body inside. I bet anything that the people held in there were pretty damn sad when their cell-mate passed away; even if they were only kept in there alive one at a time, it’d be stupid to think they didn’t talk to people in cells near them. I doubt Mister-Wizard-Nazi cleaned out the cells when the people died, either - douchebag sounded evil enough to let them rot next to the live ones. I want to bet that the bodies that created the Dementors were from people who were  _ already  _ really depressed, too, so they were full of negatively-charged magic. I bet that’s why they eat positive emotions - that’s a bit more of a reach, though.”

Peeves crammed the last bite into his mouth and ate it as quickly as possible. “You think the magic used on the muggles had anything to do with it?”

“Well, yes, but there’s something else, too. Do you want to try a buffalo wing? They’re a New York specialty, you know,” Dandrane popped open the lid on one of the small containers, and a stinging flavor hit Peeves nose. “They’re not super spicy, but they’re damn good. Especially in blue cheese. I’ve got ranch too, if you want to try that.”

Peeves blinked, eying the chicken wings covered in red sauce. “Danny, you’re  _ weird _ , you know that?” 

“Nope, never heard that before,” Dandrane smirked at him. 

“I just don’t get how  _ you  _ can eat during this,” Peeves said before nibbling part of the wing off. His lips burned pleasantly - just enough of a tingle to label as ‘spicy’.

“I’m an ex-Auror, Peeves, I’ve heard weirder conversations than this one.” Dandrane shrugged a little and dunked her buffalo wing (it looked more like a leg) into some blue cheese sauce. “I shadowed a Tier-Two Auror in my last year, and they handle some of the harder stuff - magic-induced murders of muggles, tracking down deadly objects and people… Now the Tier-Threes,  _ those  _ were guys you didn’t want to overhear. They were originally responsible for internal investigations, but they ended up handling the absolute worst cases not long after their section was founded,” Dandrane said with a wince. “Trust me, you never want to see some of those pictures. I’m used to seeing corpses, and those case photos made  _ me  _ want to retch.”

“Don’t tell me, then. ‘Least not while I’m eating,” Peeves said with a wink. He ate another, practically scraping the bone clean - they weren’t very spicy, but they were damn tasty. “Danny, I might eat the whole box.”

“Just don’t eat the styrofoam,” Danny joked, dipping her own wing into the ‘Ranch Dressing’ container. “You know what’s weird? The building is in a triangular shape.”

“Wha’ ‘o ‘eir’-” Peeves took a second to work down the mouthful of chicken - “what’s so weird about that?”

“Well, people don’t really _make_ triangle-shaped towers. They’re usually square or round. I’ve never heard of a three-sided tower outside of modern architecture.” Dandrane took a minute to finish another wing, then tossed the bones back in the box besides his. “Triangles have been known to invoke _some_ magical happenings - the Egyptian pyramids are a good example, and the Bermuda Triangle is such a big hot-spot for it that they built the original Puerto Rican School of Magic in there until World War I came along, and even non-magical people know of some of the crazy stuff that’s happened in _that_ part of the Atlantic Ocean. So this guy builds a tower with three sides, and he builds it in the middle of the Celtic Sea on an island that coincidentally lines up _exactly_ with Stonehenge hundreds of miles away, and he makes his human cages out of cast iron with _copper lining?_ I mean, I can’t _believe_ I get to say this,” she added with a wide grin, “but the guy was either a certified genius or an aesthetic _wacko_.”

Dandrane giggled to herself, shifting back in the wooden chair with almost a look of wonder - but he didn’t know why. “I’ve waited  _ years  _ to use that line.” 

Peeves really didn’t get it, but he figured it must be a reference to something muggle-like. “So how does all that come into Dementors?”

“Well, I can’t help but wonder if he was trying to channel magic through the building. Like, a  _ lot  _ of magic. The island is really tiny, so it’s not like it has a lot of natural magic built over the years, like this place does - so he was probably trying to create more.”

The gears in Peeves’ mind whirled. Muggles had magic to leak, so it wasn’t a far stretch to think that so many muggles’ magic sticking itself to a pile of bones for decades could linger if the tower was...was… “That’s why there were so many Dementors... The tower just fucking  _ amplified  _ it all...” 

“ _ Now _ you’re on the trolley,” Dandrane grinned, clicking her tongue making a little gun gesture with her fingers at him. “New Dementors are fairly rare outside of war-time and places with a shit-ton of dark skies as it is, but you’d be surprised at the number of times one’s been spotted after a huge disaster! Even in giant muggle-dwelling cities! New York City had a pair spotted near the memorial two years ago, it was all over the newspapers and the NEWBs -” Peeves raised a brow, and Dandrane quickly corrected herself - “uh, New England Wizarding Broadcasts. Regional television network. But you get my point - it’s weird that there were so many Dementors made in one place, right?”

“That one little forbidden book had all that in it, huh?” Peeves stared at her, feeling his lips continue to tingle in the aftermath of his tenth buffalo wing. Licking his lips made them sting more. He wondered if hers felt the same.

“Well, it had all the base information, yeah… So, you really don’t remember anything about being made? Because I keep having this mental image of you rising out of the dungeon floor a la  _ Hellraiser _ … Maybe without the orchestra score overlay.” Dandrane paused. “Movies are weird.”

Peeves snickered. He’d have to pester her about showing him some of the movies she talked about someday; he didn’t know how they’d do it, but if she was smart enough to figure out Dementors from analyzing less than two-hundred pages of a book almost a hundred years old, she was smart enough to figure out how to bring film to Hogwarts. “Sorry, Danny, can’t remember a thing.” 

“Hm… Oh well. Can’t win ‘em all.” Dandrane began to pick apart a piece of chicken and placing the shreds on a slice of pizza. 

Peeves watched her, thinking. If Dementors were made from dead bodies, and they looked like dead bodies… What was  _ he  _ made from? “Danny.”

“Yeah?”

“What if  _ I’m _ made from a corpse?” 

Why were her eyes so damn dazzling? It didn’t matter if they were piercing or soft or analytical - they always made him feel like he didn’t want to move. His legs were barely swinging over the chair now. “It wouldn’t stop me from liking you, if that’s what you’re asking,” Dandrane smiled at him, lips smeared with hot sauce. “I’d  _ still  _ bone you into the ground.”

Peeves let out a giggle, even as heat that had nothing to do with spice flew to his face. “Pervert.”

“You know it,” Dandrane smirked, giving him a tiny wink. “I’d live up to all my talk if I wasn’t bleeding in a really inconvenient place tonight.” She looked down at her sauce-covered hands. “And if  capsaicin and genitals weren’t such a bad combination.”

Peeves pouted, scooting closer. “You won’t even kiss me?”

“Hm, well I  _ guess  _ I could,” Dandrane chuckled. “I’ll try not to get it on your suit.”

Sparks always seemed to fly when she kissed him, but she seemed to sear him even more as the spicy tingle practically danced around in his mouth. He wished she’d kiss his neck like she did last time, when he’d  _ distracted  _ her to the point where she shut her book and took hold of his wrists… Instead, she pulled away and took his fingers into her mouth, running her tongue over and in-between them, sucking. 

He could very easily imagine the sensations going elsewhere, but he didn’t really need to - just the feel of her lips around some part of his body was enough to send a thrill through him. How would someone feel looking at them like this, caught in such a sensuous moment? He’d love to see their face. A teacher - the hottest one around, no less - rolling her tongue over his digits and hers, kissing his palms and caressing his knuckles, watching and listening to his reactions with hooded eyes… It’d be enough to turn anyone red with jealousy.

Peeves felt like he was burning all over. He was glad he didn’t need to breathe, else he might be panting. “Danny,” he said softly, watching her lips quirk upward as she pulled away.

“Hm?”

“You’re teasing me.”

She grinned, and the only word he could put to it was one he often used to describe himself -  _ ‘mischievous’ _ . “I don’t plan on stopping. Makes the waiting around much more fun.”

Peeves wouldn’t dare try to tell her otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday to me, we’re at **200 pages!!!!** It’s like reading a really weird book!!! With ghosts and a punk-chick who wears suits and a pesky poltergeist and smut and theories… This is the weirdest romance book in the store. STILL!!!! 200 PAGES!!! This is my b-day gift to you guys!!!! ♡ฅ(ᐤˊ꒳ฅˋᐤ♪)
> 
> This story has changed a bit since I initially wrote it. Things got expanded and new ideas popped in (and keep popping in), but the theory behind Dementors’ creation is something that has only changed slightly since I first wondered how amortals were created, and right now the Dementor’s creation is almost completely solidified in my mind. Danny, though, had little to go on until she got hold of that book. Which, by the way, does not exist in book!canon to our knowledge. And no, I don’t take Cursed Child as canon - this story is solidly book-compliant and at least a little Pottermore-complaint. I figured a wizarding society would try to hide their dirty laundry as much as possible, especially during and after the Wizarding War when they would not doubt destroy as many “dark affiliated” things as possible. It’s easy to picture raids and book burnings. Even though I don’t take A Cursed Child as canon, I’m guessing the book on Hermione’s shelf (Dominating Dementors, A True History of Azkaban - lame ass title imo) was made post-Second Wizarding War. In HP canon, before the dementors flipped sides in the Second War, people were almost all for keeping them around, and I doubt the Ministry would let any anti-Dementor “propaganda” go through - after all, the dementors are keeping the worst magical people locked away, in their minds the things are a necessary evil. If anything, anti-Dementor stuff would be limited to stuff like The Quibbler, where only a handful of people would read it. Thus, I made MY Azkaban book (because come on, someone would write this crap down! No one could keep completely silent!) a rarity that’s a blacklisted mark on the history of the wizarding world. I also put it as something published before the first Wizarding War, and as something that’s more of a compilation of diary entries and unfinished work and reports with the Author’s interpretations rather than some sort of autobiography. Also, if you get the reference I made with said author’s name (or at least go “huh, that looks familiar”), you are as a big a nerd as I am and I will high-five you for it _so hard_. 
> 
> Also, I know in GoF that they had non-British/Scottish/Irish cuisine to help welcome their foreign guests, but do they ever serve foreign food more regularly? Do they have Italian or Spanish food sometimes? Has anyone there ever eaten a naan or some pad thai or yakitori inside the castle? I doubt it, unless they have visitors. That means no spaghetti or swedish meatballs or pho!!! That’s so sad… (ఠ్ఠ ˓̭ ఠ్ఠ) So I decided to expose ~~my son~~ our favorite poltergeist to one of the world’s best comfort foods - pizza. And buffalo wings, because you can’t have an American introduce you to pizza for the first time without hot wings and Coke/Pepsi. (Beer is also an option, but Danny’s not a beer drinker.)
> 
> And on a final note - hello new readers! Thank you for reading the whole way through! It’s so nice to see my Hit counter go up so often! ♡(ŐωŐ人) I’ve got more HP headcanons and theories to insert into this story as we go along, and I know you’re gonna have a ball! I’m going to have to work in how I explain auras vs magical signatures soon in particular, because that’s pretty darn relevant to Danny’s growing theories regarding Dementor-Poltergeist similarities. A lot of what I will establish is based off book-canon, my own interpretations of some common HP-fic tropes (magical signatures is something everybody’s mentioned at least once!), and some serious thinking. There’s going to be talk about the Room of Requirement in the future, too, and that one is the most outlandish thing I’ve got, because...how can a room know what you need when mind-reading is canonically debunked in the HP canon? I’ve got an answer, and it’s insane, but it’s the best explanation I’ve got to work with… Hopefully, you guys will get a bit more world-expansion by IRL Yule! ☆=(ゝω･)


	14. It All Comes To This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get yourself a drink, and maybe a snack, put on your favorite crackling fireplace video, and get comfortable... 
> 
> You’ve waited so patiently for so long. 
> 
> SPOILER TAGS: cunnilingus, dirty talk, first time

_"I've been doing this for five years", I said._

_“I know what I’m doing”, I said._

_I’m a total liar is more like it,_ Dandrane grumbled to herself as she poured over the last page of her six-year’s exams. Making tests was far worse than grading them, but it was _way_ worse when she had several different grade levels to consider. It was the first time she had wished that her predecessor had left something for her to use – but of course Professor Bartlett wouldn’t have, the only tests the kids were used to taking were the end-of-year ones in June. A foolish decision on the teacher’s parts, in her opinion.

And right now, a foolish one of hers for setting them in the first place. This was the most stressful month by far – first her outburst, then the resulting lack of energy, then the obsessive pouring over that damn Azkaban book and having to endure one of the six periods she got each year… And now test-making. Her lack of sleep was getting ridiculous.

It didn’t help that Peeves kept dropping by for the past couple of days, either, even though each time she saw him part of her stress just _evaporated_ . He was so distracting, hovering around her and teasing her about her lack of foresight, cracking jokes before realizing just how busy she really was… She resisted the temptation to kiss him twice now; she knew if she _did_ , she wouldn’t end up getting anything done. That was probably his whole idea, trying to get her wound up so she would shove aside her work and take the reins.

Well, that wasn’t going to work. Not when she was giving her first exam of the term tomorrow. The sixth-years were up first and she was still rushing to finish their test. She still had to finish the fourth-year’s ones, too, and she only had until lunch to finish them. Nope, zero distractions. _Zero_.

“Still working, eh?”

Dandrane looked up, tilting her head back until Peeves came into view – he was hovering upside down above her, peering down at her paper with a knowing grin, his strange late-19th-century hat perched on his head. She’d have to ask him about that thing one day; she could swear it was a woman’s, despite the short brim, but if the many oddly-silented bells were replaced with _flowers_ then it’d be a sure thing. It was just as odd as the curly-toed gold-ish persian slippers. Where on Earth did he _get_ those? _You’re getting distracted, Danny. Tests now, invasive questions later._

“Yes, and I’m busy, Peeves, just like yesterday _and_ the day before,” Dandrane said off-handedly, returning to finish up the last couple of questions. _Concentrate, Danny._ _They need another good short-answer question… I already asked about killing Infiri, I can’t use that again…_

“I thought you would be,” Peeves said smoothly, flipping himself around and leaning over the desk, glancing over her papers. “’Describe the wand-movement for non-verbal spells.’ Tsk _tsk_ , you naughty girl, throwing in trick questions…”

“Are you just going to hover there and snub my writing skills for the next hour?” Dandrane asked with a smile edging it’s way onto her face. She stared at her paper, wishing it would write itself on it’s own. _It should be illegal, saying things like that in such a stupidly charming accent._ And of course he was just staying there in mid-air, crossing his thin legs and giving her that playful grin she liked.

“Depends. You ever going to _finish_?”

“Not if you keep sitting there talking to me.” _There’s gotta be_ something _I didn’t cover..._

“But I’m so _bored_ , Danny. The kids aren’t being fun at all, I swear half of them have their noses to books in-between classes these days… Seeing you always makes things so much livelier.”

Dandrane was trying so hard to think, but it was difficult whenever Peeves gave flattering remarks; they always made her brain feel warm and fuzzy. “I have to finish this, Peeves. I’m sure you can wait a while longer.”

“Oh, come on, you’ve been busy for _days_ ! I know you were stuck answering questions for those seconders for _ages,_ too. You should have a _break_ now and then.” The poltergeist’s eyes were gleaming wickedly. _Don’t look at me like that._ “You’ll get grey hair if you don’t.” The hand nearest to her reached over and, rather than pet her head like a normal boyfriend would, shifted portions of her spikes aside. “Oh look, there’s some! You’re growing a whole section already!”

“Do you really expect me to fall for that?” Dandrane said dryly, a smile forming despite herself.

“Always worth trying.” An elbow plopped on her shoulder, Peeves’ weight settling somewhat there. “You’re _really_ behind, aren’t you?”

“I have one more question to write for this one, then I have to fix the answer key,” Dandrane explained, pointing the end of her cheap quill at the stubbornly blank spot on her page. “I probably won’t finish until this afternoon.”

He sighed, and she felt the weight shift. “Nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“You act like I enjoy doing this,” Dandrane squinted at the paper. “But no, I don’t think so.”

A set of fingertips ghosted down her back, straight over her spine, and warmth spread over her back. The witch tried and failed to suppress a shudder.

“Was that a _challenge_?”

Good God, she could _hear_ the grin in his voice.

The most reasonable part of her - the part that seemed to have bloomed more in her adult years than in her teens - told her to tell him off. She needed to finish and edit the exam, the answer sheet needed it’s mistakes fixed, and she still had a whole _other_ exam to write.

But the rest of her - the parts that adored him, that practically ached to touch him, that were stressed out, tired, and just plain _bored_ \- told her to just give in already. She had been working hard for several days in a row with little time to herself. Besides, it was _Peeves_ , he could use as much experience as he could get, and what was a few minutes fooling around?

A compromise was in order.

“Tell you what,” Dandrane began as casually as possible. “You can do whatever you want from behind me. That way I can still finish this _and_ we can still fool around,” Dandrane teased with a little smirk, glancing at him.

He was so _cute_ when he was visibly nervous. Cheeks flushed, grin not as wide, obsidian eyes not quite meeting hers…

“Alright,” he said when she finally looked back at her work, “but scoot forward.”

“What’s the magic word?” Dandrane said in an imitation of his usual sing-song taunts.

“Please?” It was asked simply, but there was a teasing edge to it. He didn’t seem the type to _ever_ say it, too, which just stimulated her brain further.

“That’s better.”

It took no time at all until Peeves was wedged between her and the back of the chair, his legs dangling through the armrests and his face buried in her shoulder-blades. (Did he stand in front of a fireplace before he came to see her? He seemed awfully warm today.) Despite being hugged and held from behind before, it still got her excited; she could feel him pressed against her, and his arms slowly curled around her waist like he was afraid she’d tell him to stop. Her heart was thudding a little faster already.

Peeves was rather unpredictable when she couldn’t see him, but at first she wondered if he just decided to forgo the opportunity to cop a feel from her and just enjoy sitting there. It _was_ rather comfortable...

_I covered advanced first aid… I asked about deep cuts and broken limbs already…_

He wasn’t just sitting. She kept feeling his chest expand against her back - he was _breathing_ . But he didn’t _need_ to breathe...

Peeves’ muffled, dreamy sigh confirmed it - he was _smelling_ her. “I like you, Danny,” he muttered into her jacket.

“I like you, too.”

“...it’s easier to touch you like this.”

Dandrane often prided herself in her ability to read people most of the time. She knew not to take a statement like that at face-value - it was not about how far he could reach around her or get to certain areas without anything getting in the way. It was strange that Peeves had no problem touching her over clothes or when she was mostly covered, but got more nervous the more he saw of her. Hopefully, by getting him to touch her intimately without actually looking at her, he’d be able to get rid of some of the nerves he had built up around the whole sex thing.

“Anything in your reach is fair game, you know,” Dandrane said, hoping that he would take the hint. “Just don’t pinch anything too hard.”

“Hm,” the poltergeist mumbled, tugging at the line of buttons on her shirt. “Anything?”

She thought he might have popped them all off when she suddenly felt the skin of his hands on her stomach, but a quick look down told her that wasn’t the case. In fact, the backs of Peeves’ hands were still visible. Something was very off about the picture…

“You _mean_ it?”

“Yeah.” _Concentrate, Danny… Did we ask about limb severing?_  Dandrane turned the page in the pile of official-looking parchment, scanning for ‘limb’ - or at least, she was doing so for a second or two.

Peeves was slowly trailing his hands up, his newly warmed fingers running lightly over her ribs. He was hesitant - his hands were just barely touching the bottom of her breasts, hovering there like he was debating on whether or not he should actually do anything.  Finally, Peeves cupped her breasts in one fell swoop, and when his fingers sank into her flesh Dandrane realized how incredibly lucky she was to be dating a poltergeist.

Peeves could go through objects at will, after all.

It felt so good to have someone else’s palms rubbing against her again that her nipples practically stiffened on contact. He squeezed her breasts, his fingers digging into her and rolling over her at the same time, and heat bloomed between Dandrane’s legs. The room grew steadily warmer as he repeated the motion slowly, and the tiny satisfied groan he gave made her all the more aware of how distracted she had gotten.

“They’re really soft,” he muttered, sounding genuinely awed.

_Limbs, right, severed limbs… ‘Describe...in your...own…’_

Peeves ran his middle and index fingers over her hardened nipples. The witch bit her tongue to stop from making any sort of noise, even as he repeated the action again and again, truly enjoying himself by the little giggle he gave. It was difficult to concentrate on anything when he kept _pressing_ on hard little buds, pushing them in and rocking them back and forth...

_‘Words...what...to do if...a...person’s…’_

Her pen scratching had gotten slower the more Peeves fondled her, but a hard blink and a shake of the head got her back in the rhythm. The poltergeist at her back paused.

 _‘Limb is...severed.’_ Dandrane flipped the exam back to it’s first page and pulled out her answer key, darting her eyes from her questions to their corresponding answers as quickly as she could. _4...A. 5...D? No, C…_

Peeves pinches came out of nowhere, and even Dandrane couldn’t hold back her gasp.

He giggled sinisterly against her - she could practically feel the grin against her back. He pinched her nipples again, and the witch couldn’t stop herself from groaning.

“Do that again,” she said somewhat breathily.

He did.

She could feel her groin ache pleasantly. “Pull them a little, too, I really liked that...”

He did, and upon hearing her murmured _‘there we go’_ he did it again and again, going in different directions and with different pressures, and the hot pulsing ache between Dandrane’s legs was becoming somewhat uncomfortable. She spread her legs open, tempted to just unzip her fly and go to town right then and there if Peeves wasn’t going to. She rather expected him to stop and tease her about getting distracted.

She wasn’t giving him nearly enough credit.

Peeves had stopped, but he didn’t pull away or linger awkwardly - his hands just fell straight into her lap like that was the logical place to go, palming her inner thighs through her trousers.

“Don’t leave me in suspense for too long, babe.”

His fingers were on the edge of her underwear. “Why Professor, you act like you’re _turned on_ or something,” he teased, snickering into her back. “Not _nice_ to be on the other end, is it?”

“On the contrary - I’m still digging it.” Dandrane smirked, feeling Peeves’ semi-hard erection pressing against her backside.

“Oh _really_?” Peeves was grinning into her one moment, and in the next his hand completely cupped her wet mound, and he went very quiet. She could feel his face burning through her suit, but it was a little hard to think about that, though, as his middle finger was right over her lower lips, squishing them slightly apart as fresh heat sparked from his touch.

God, that felt so _good…_

He wasn’t moving, though. Her patience was wearing thin. She was in the hot seat, but Peeves needed guidance.

Dandrane slid her hand over his, feeling the skin on the back of his hand and the material that separated his fingers from hers, the muscles in his hand stiffening and the flesh of hers delighting in every bit of sensation. “You shouldn’t keep a lady waiting,” she purred as she pressed his hand lower; his digits spread her apart, and she felt him shudder as she gently guided his hand up and down. “Keep stroking like this, and when you get to here,” she said low as she pressed his fingers in over her swollen clitoris, the friction making her wetter than ever, “give a bit more pressure.”

“...like this?”

She let his hand go, and _fuck him_ did he do it slow, but the sticky tingling heat that built every time he pressed into her clit was completely worth it. Dandrane couldn’t help but spread her legs more, shuffling to the edge of the chair for more room for him to move.

“ _Yes_ ...but, _fuck me_ ...go _faster_ please…”

He gave a very small giggle, stroking her just a little faster several times before sinking two fingers partway into her quivering entrance; there was no stopping the moan that unleashed from her throat. Fuck, she wanted him to ram her six ways from Sunday. “Here’s okay, too, right?”

“Trust me, I’ll _tell_ you when it’s not,” Dandrane mumbled, gripping her quill hard as he slowly rubbed her inner-wall, dipping in and out...

“Danny?”

“Y-yeah?”

“This would be a lot easier if I could see you.”

Dandrane gave a very short laugh; it was funny, but he had a point. She could just take him to her room, it would be _much_ easier… No, no, she’d never go back to work if they went in there. She had to stay here. Had to try and focus… Or at least have her work in front of her as a reminder.

“Well… You could sit on the _floor_ . You, uh, think you can handle seeing me without _any_ kind of pants?”

“...maybe.”

“You could always turn invisible for a bit, if it helped...”

The warmth at her back around around her hips left rather suddenly. Instead, she felt him brush against her legs in an attempt to situate himself in the crevice at her feet.

“Ready.”

It took no time at all to stand, pull down her underwear to her ankles, and sit back on the edge of the chair completely spread open, anchoring herself on the desk to keep from leaning backwards like her instincts wanted her to do. She was too eager to say anything else, and the anticipation as to what exactly he’d do next was flooding her brain in a rush.

His touches were light and prodding, pushing her flesh around like he was trying to get a good look at everything. Dandrane didn’t mind in the least - his fingers were fairly soft, and knowing they had once broken a foe-glass and lifted a solid-wood desk made it a bigger thrill. Even if she couldn’t see him doing it, she knew he was watching her, taking in every single inch of her, touching to see what incited a moan and what simply made her _drip_...

“Danny…” His cool breath hit her swollen clit, and if it wasn’t hard enough already, it was definitely standing to attention now. “You’re _really_ wet...”

“I wonder who did _that_ ,” she joked quietly, hoping he’d talk a bit more. He spread her lower-lips open with one hand as his fingers delved back into her entrance, pushing in and out in a slightly faster rhythm than before and firing up her nerves.

“ _I_ did,” he murmured into her thigh, pulling his hand away and flicking a wet finger over her clit, gently grinding into it.

“Oh _God_ , go faster,” she begged, no longer focused on anything else.

She didn’t have to see him to know he was grinning at her. Her mind was becoming a pleasant haze as pleasure spiked again and again with every rub. “Look at you...you’re _dripping_ ,” he purred, sounding almost like he couldn’t believe it. “You need a _cork_.”

Dandrane almost laughed, even though she knew he was right, but before she could think of some kind of joke in return, Peeves had got the idea to use both hands at once. There was no more helping it - Dandrane had to lean back into her chair, almost slipping out of it entirely, and gripped the armrests. She heard something snap, but she didn’t care if she somehow cracked the wood; all she wanted right now was to be as close to Peeves hand as possible. The wet squelching sounds of his fingers repeatedly diving in and out were so loud, so _lewd_ , oh _God -_

Every muscle tensed as her pleasurable high was pushed over the point of no return, hearing herself call out and not bothering to stop it as complete satisfaction washed over her. She had a tendency to shut her eyes, and this time was no different, but damn if she didn’t want to see the look on his face when he realized he made her _cum_.

Dandrane lay back, her heart still racing but her breath evening out as her muscles relaxed. “Good job,” she managed to say in a slightly strangled voice. She looked down, expecting to see him visible, but instead she could only feel his face pressed against her inner-thigh as the distinct sound of skin quickly slapping together filled her ears. He was fapping away, leaning into her leg and groaning, his mouth partially touching her and sending a zip of delight right into her core.

 _Oh man, I would’ve sucked him off if he just waited… Or even better, he could eat me out right now, he’s right there._ Dandrane opened her mouth, ready to suggest him putting his tongue to good use when he stiffened and tried - and failed - to hold back his voice.

There was a _pop_ , and he appeared visible again, slumped against her with a delightful blush to his cheeks.

“You know, I could’ve taken care of that _for_ you,” Dandrane grinned down at him, drinking in the sight as her heart fluttered.  

“I wouldn’t’ve lasted,” he muttered, the purple in his cheeks growing darker.

“What, am I too hot for my own good?”

“Maybe a _bit_.” He leaned back, shuffling so, presumably, she could pull her clothes back on. Standing after an orgasm was always tough; the muscles in her legs always felt blissfully tired afterwards. Even after she buckled her belt and sat back down (dropping her now broken quill on the desk), her legs feeling a bit like jello, Peeves went right back to leaning against her leg, looking up at her with a sort of glazed admiration. “That was fun.”

“Damn right. Still have to finish up this test, though… At least I’m less stressed about it now,” she said with a wink.

“I could do it again, if you want,” he said with an eagerness that she couldn’t help but find charming.

“Right now, no. Tomorrow...maybe. It depends on how everything goes. I am sort of on a time crunch, babe.”

“That’s alright. With everyone gone for Christmas, you and I will have _lots_ of time to fool around,” Peeves purred, snuggling into her thigh.

“Uh, Peeves,” Dandrane said, feeling guilt build in the back of her throat, “ _I’ll_ be gone for Christmas, too.”

She could practically hear his bubble burst. “...what?”

“I already missed out on Thanksgiving - I’m not going to miss spending Christmas at home.” Dandrane reached down to pet his hair, even as he began to frown up at her. “I’m too used to just apparating over to see my parents and friends. I haven’t been able to do that in _months_ \- I feel like I’ve been cooped up in here as it _is_ , not being able to drive or go anywhere I want… I feel like I’m in school all over again.”

“You _are_ in a school,” Peeves grumbled, crossing his arms.

“You know _exactly_ what I meant.”

Peeves avoided her gaze, a small scowl painting his face even as he continued to lean against her.

“There’s no need to _sulk_ over it. It’s not like I’m never coming back.”

“I know.” His expression softened a fraction, but he still chose to stare at her shoes. “I just…want to see you.” His face turned a very light shade of purple. “I get really bored when there’s no one around, you know.”

“Yeesh, you’re acting like I’ll be gone the full two weeks or something,” Dandrane said with a light chuckle. “I should be back the day after Boxing Day.”

“Would’ve been nice to know _earlier_ ,” he grumbled. “What about Yule?”

“I’ll be here, but I’ve been invited to Horace’s little soiree - apparently he invites friends and old students from all over the place. Should be interesting.”

Peeves gave a ‘hm’, gliding a hand back up her calf. “You’re not bringing a _guest_ , are you?”

It wasn’t accusatory, but Dandrane knew what he was after. It left a bittersweet feeling. “Peeves, you know you’re the first guy I’d bring anywhere, but you _know_ you can’t come with me.”

“Why not?” A familiar sneaky look came to his eyes. “It’d be _fun_. You could chain me to you so it looks like an accident,” he grinned. “I’d be on my best behavior. I could pretend to be helpless and everything.”

She had to admit, the image of him on a leash the whole evening was exciting… But it was risky, what with so many people around, and who knew how long Peeves could keep up the charade? There was no telling who would be there, either... “Sorry, babe, but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t work; it’d be hard enough to keep my hands to myself with you chained to me all night. Though if you just wanted to be bound and helpless, I wouldn’t say no to that,” Dandrane added with a flirty grin.

Peeves sighed, his obsidian eyes soft, yet serious - a rare thing, indeed. “I want to see you, you know.”

“You can see me the whole rest of the day, you goon,” Dandrane chuckled, ruffling his hair slightly and earning her a small smile in return. She planned on spending the whole day with him, actually, doing whatever they wanted, and hopefully more sex was in the future. Maybe they’d run over a few of the places she was still curious about, too. “And when I come back-” A tune, one memorized to the tee, popped in her head and picked up after the triggering line. “ _And when I come back_ ,” Dandrane sang, “ _we can have a ball in the halls, takin’ it to the Shrieking Shack_.”

“What’s _that_ from?”

“The Screaming Doxies’ _Better Gone Than Nowhere._ It’s one of their best songs, even if it wasn’t exactly a big hit. Though I _do_ want to see the Shack, now that I think about it…”

The poltergeist at her feet snorted, grinning up at her. “ _Now_ ? You’ve mentioned it _twice_ in your little book of notes.”

 _What, did he memorize the thing?_ “Eh, you got me, the line was originally ‘our old love shack’ - but it was a good segway into the subject. You ever go down there?”

“Not really. Supposed to be a _rowdy_ bunch, the Shack lot… You _sure_ you want to go?” He grinned up at her, eyes gleaming wickedly. “There’s not even a way _in_ for you.”

“Pfft, like _that’d_ stop me. The most haunted place in Britain can’t keep out America’s most ghost-obsessed ex-Auror, let alone one accompanied by the world’s greatest poltergeist.”

*~*~*~*~*

There were times when Sir Nicholas De Mimsey Porpington disliked being a renowned Gryffindor. Or rather, that he was such a _reliable_ one. More often than not he was proud to be the keeper of certain secrets, a person trusted to look after his house’s inhabitants, and a man worthy enough to be looked upon as a decision-maker, to the point where people of any house, both living and dead, would ask for his opinions. He had the boldness and bravery that the house of the lion stood for, and the politeness and tact that made him a person that could be trusted with things that few else could.

But for the death of him, he couldn’t understand why fifty-percent of the time it was _he_ who had to fetch Peeves.

He knew that the Bloody Baron was the only person in the castle that intimidated the little man, so he was so often called for dealing with the poltergeist that the Baron outright refused to do anything before someone else tried first sometimes.

The Fat Friar Glaedwine was a good man, and highly understanding of others, but the Friar was a little too much so at times. Sir Nicholas couldn’t understand why a man of the cloth was so forgiving of the little hellraiser; the few occasions the Friar had been sent after Peeves for whatever reason, he had come back empty handed, and Peeves was jovially gallivanting about on the other side of the castle. So at least, to a degree, Sir Nicholas understood why the Friar was never asked.

And despite being the daughter of a Founder, the Grey Lady had never tried to control Peeves in person. Of course, Sir Nicholas was not one to pry, so he did not ask the lady _why_ she never went after Peeves herself, but he knew that part of the reason must be because she generally did not like to talk in front of non-Ravenclaw students, and if there was a chance one was nearby she would clam up. She had never been a talkative woman in the first place, either, and Sir Nicholas doubted that Peeves had _ever_ behaved in her presence before her death, but surely she had the power to do _something_. But of course, she always said she was looking after her house or gathering the other ghosts when it came time to drag the poltergeist aside. He would never ask particulars, but Nicholas figured that there must have been some sort of incident in the past that prevented her from chasing the poltergeist away herself.

So here he was, drifting around the castle in another long search. Peeves wasn’t in his usual spaces during the day, which was unusual in itself; as it was the night before the castle emptied for Christmas, normally he was near the stairs or entrances to the house quarters in order to play some joke on whoever was coming out. Sir Nicholas had already checked the Trophy Room, the Library, and the bathrooms - stopping to make sure Miss Myrtle knew of the Council meeting later on - and now he was close to the end of the abandoned classrooms Peeves loved to fool around in. That left the _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ office; the ghost knew that Peeves had been spending time there, but surely the poltergeist wanted a break from his spying job now and again…

Although, Peeves _did_ say that he and Professor Flemming got along. Sir Nicholas wasn’t sure he quite believed it. Either Peeves was over exaggerating, or Professor Flemming was tolerating him for a different reason. The ghost wasn’t sure the Grey Lady was correct in her assumptions of the professor either, but he had to admit that the professor’s questions were rather unusual when put together.

The statue of the Chinese dog outside the professor’s office seemed to be asleep at first, but once the ghost passed in front of it, it stared up at him and spoke in a low, calm voice, not really the sort he’d expect from a dog of any kind. “Yes?”

“I am looking for Peeves. May I go in?”

“Hold on.” It was so strange, seeing a statue hold stock still, like it had a pair of eyes in the back of it’s head that was looking past the door. The other statues in the castle always just moved aside... “She’ll open the door for you.”

The heavy door opened a few moments later, and there Peeves was, sitting on Professor Flemming’s couch with a rather purple tinge to his otherwise pale blue face, his arms and legs crossed, determinedly looking out the window as one of his legs bounced in the air.

“Hello, Sir Nicholas!” Professor Flemming called from the adjacent sleeping quarters.

“Good evening, Professor,” the ghost answered. “Please pardon my intrusion, I only came to find Peeves. Peeves, it’s nearly time for our meeting, we should-”

“ _Meeting_ ?” The professor leaned in from the doorway, her long necklace swinging with her rapid movement. “You _swine_ ,” she said, grinning down at Peeves, who still looked rather flushed, but turned around to peek at her. “You’ve been holding out on me! I didn’t know you had _meet-”_ she paused, her smile practically evaporating on the spot, “Have you been eating my peppers again?” The dark lenses of her glasses flashed in the light of the chandelier.

Peeves face went darker, but he was giving her a rather subdued grin. “Can’t help it if they’re _tasty_.”

“Dude, those are _my_ peppers. Quit eating them or I’m not bringing back any hot sauce for you.”

“Oh come _on_ , Phlegmy, you _know_ I can’t keep my hands to myself.”

Something in that grin was really rubbing the ghost the wrong way. It wasn’t Peeves’ normal mischievous or taunting smile.

“You’re lucky I don’t just curse your grabby fingers off, you little punk,” the professor said with small smirk. “Sorry, Sir Nicholas, I’m holding you up, aren’t I?”

“Oh no, it’s quite alright.” He left more time than usual to get to the meeting with no trouble. The meeting never started without all four house ghosts present, anyway, but telling Peeves _that_ would only lead to future trouble.

“That’s his way of saying _I’m_ the problem,” Peeves grinned.

“I guess I should be heading down to Horace’s little party, too,” the pink-haired witch said, leaning against the doorframe. “But out of curiosity, can I know what the meeting’s about, or is that a taboo subject that I should never mention again?”  

“Don’t waste your excitement, Phlegmy, they’re as boring as Barmy-Binn’s voice.”

The ghost shot an annoyed glare at the poltergeist. “Of course they’re boring to _you,_ Peeves, you care about the castle only _half_ as much as the rest of us.” Peeves wrinkled his nose and turned away, rolling his eyes. That was much more typical. “I’m afraid I don’t speak of specific details, Miss Flemming, but we do meet to discuss personal matters and any news regarding the school.”

“I thought it wasn’t going to be until _tomorrow_ ,” Peeves pointed out slyly, narrowing his eyes at him.

“We all agreed that we would meet tonight. Just because you’re not present for changes in plans doesn’t mean you don’t have to follow them,” Sir Nicholas said wisely, crossing his arms in a matter-of-fact way. “Now, are you coming, or will I have to fetch the Baron instead?”

“ _Fine_ , you don’t have to make a _deal_ out of it, I’m coming,” he grumbled, floating off the couch.

“That’s my queue to exit stage left, too, I guess,” the witch muttered as she pulled on a thick leather jacket. “Thanks again for the couch, by the way, Peeves. More than makes up for the chair incident.”

There was two things that bothered the ghost about those sentences. One was the implication that Peeves had _willingly_ given a person something, which he couldn’t for the _death_ of him recall the poltergeist doing before. The second, of course, was that Peeves had destroyed a professor’s property and that said professor was very nonchalant about it.

“Chair incident?” Sir Nicholas eyed Peeves; the poltergeist face hadn’t changed hue at all, but his dark eyes were glued to the professor, seeming a little intense for the ghost’s liking.

“A mysterious accident,” he said with a smile, tearing his eyes away from the professor, “but it’s a good thing I found that couch, right, Phlegmy?” He side-eyed her, the black depths glittering like crystals. “ _Much_ more comfy.”

“True. Nice style, too, I always liked those turn-of-the-century looks. And it’s not cursed or anything, that was a surprise in itself...”

The ghost had barely heard her, and he knew he interrupting a person - let alone a lady - was incredibly rude and something he considered not done at all, but, not for the first time, his agitation at Peeves got the better of him. “ _Found_ it?” Sir Nicholas asked in a reprimanding tone. “Peeves, you can’t just take furniture from the castle whenever you want!”

“ _Relax_ , Nicky, it’ll only be for half a year. Besides, no one was using it, ‘s why it was in storage for fifty-or-so years, wasn’t it?”

“That’s not the _point_! It’s not yours to give away!”

Peeves grinned wide, his face slowly fading back to it’s normal color. “I’m _not_ giving it away. She’s _borrowing_ it. You won’t take it, will you, Phlegmy? You’ll put it back in it’s rightful place?”

“Sorry, Sir Nicholas, but you wouldn’t mind me borrowing it, would you? I don’t want people to have to make their own seats; I promise I’ll put it back wherever Peeves got it from at the end of the school year.”

It was true that there wasn’t any harm in lending a piece of furniture that hadn’t been used in years; he just didn’t want Peeves to get away with something he shouldn’t have. Loopholes and poltergeists were never a good mix. “The deed is done, and I wouldn’t want to take away something a professor would need, I suppose.” Sir Nicholas turned his gaze fully to the poltergeist, feeling his temper flitter at the incredibly satisfied look on the little man’s face. “But regardless, Peeves, the Baron _will_ hear of this later.”

Peeves had gone back to his normal pale blue, and his grin had shrunk and his eyes had darkened, but he didn’t look as nervous as he usually did when the Baron was mentioned.

“The Bloody Baron?” Dandrane inquired from the corner. “He’s the quiet guy with the thin face, right? I think he’s the only person in the castle I haven’t talked to… What’s he like, anyway?”

“A bit intense, as anyone would tell you, my dear lady, but he is proud of his house and his gentlemanly heritage. If you _do_ talk to him,” Sir Nicholas advised, not doubting that she would try as she had with all the rest of them, “I suggest wearing a coat.”

“I see… Well, gentlemen first,” the professor said with a polite smile as the office door swung open on it’s own. Sir Nicholas checked to make sure Peeves was following him; the poltergeist was lagging a little behind and looking a bit surly, but he was moving. The fire in the grate extinguished itself with a casual wave of the professor’s hand as she followed them out, jiggling the handle to make sure the lock clicked in place before turning to the little statue by the door. “Unless it’s Professor McGonagall or Madam Pomfrey, no one gets in without me. Understood?”

The Chinese dog regarded her carefully. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Try not to fall asleep this time, okay?”

“I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

“Have a good Christmas, you two,” the professor said with a little wave in their direction as she turned on her heel and strode away towards the main staircase.

Sir Nicholas began to make his way in the opposite direction, turning only to make sure Peeves was following - he was, but he decided to float backwards like he was lounging around in the air with his hands behind his head.

“So what _were_ you doing in there, Peeves? _Aside_ from sitting around and mooching off a professor’s private stores.”

“Spying.”

“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” Sir Nicholas said with an annoyed sigh. Getting Peeves to speak of details was like pushing a loaded cart uphill.

“I asked her what kind of books she had, since her is case is full,” he said, still not facing him. “Turns out over half of it is muggle fiction. I read one for a while; it was pretty funny.”

He actually _read_ something? That was a surprise… In the rare times the ghost caught him doing it, Peeves rarely read anything that wasn’t incredibly gory or distasteful. Things that were ‘funny’ to Peeves was a rather mixed bag, though. “It was horror, then?”

Peeves sped up until they were at eye-level with one another, his usual grin in place. “ _Badly_ done. This guy was a psychic who was looking for the ghost of his girlfriend, and he ends up in this cabin in the middle of the forest, and then the shit hits the fan when-”

“Peeves, _language_!”

“It’s how _Phlegmy_ puts it,” he said with a gleeful spark in his eyes.

“I don’t care, you’re in the middle of the hallway, a child could hear you.”

“They’re all tucked away in their houses by now, what’s it matter?”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Peeves.” Sir Nicholas knew there was no real reasoning with the little man on such matters. Switching the subject was probably the best thing to do. “What’s the other half of the professor’s collection, if not muggle fiction? Something actually noteworthy, I hope?”

“Some things on psychics, _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ stuff, ghost encounters… ‘S not as fun.”

The pair fell through the floors and ceilings, passing through stone like it was nothing at all - indeed, Sir Nicholas could not feel it, so it _was_ truly nothing to him - until they reached the ground floor, stopping before the entrance to the staff room. The door was already open, showing the rest of the ghosts all sitting in evenly-spaced chairs before a crackling fire. The Gryffindor ghost had only gotten a foot inside when Peeves slammed the door behind them.

Sir Nicholas was rather glad they got to use this room tonight. There was more than enough room for fourteen ghosts and a poltergeist to sit, and the lit fireplace gave an illusion of warmth. The Bloody Baron had seated himself closest to the fire, with Helga the Heretic sitting the closest to him on the opposing side, and The Grey Lady was already sitting at the head of the table. Moaning Myrtle seemed to be absent - she did seem rather moody earlier, so perhaps it was for the best.

“Good evening, everyone,” the ghost greeted, taking a seat next to the Knight Trechadod. “Is the Friar here yet?”

“No, not yet. Peeves, sit here,” the Grey Lady said pointedly, gesturing to the empty seat next to her.

The poltergeist glowered at her, but he plopped himself down and fished around in his pockets, retrieving a black-and-blue yo-yo to play with. For a horrid second, Sir Nicholas thought it was the screaming variety, but moments of only quiet murmuring between ghosts as Peeves fooled with the toy disproved that.

“Sorry, am I late?” the Fat Friar called from the wall, slipping carefully into a seat at the middle of the table next to Moaning Myrtle. “I didn’t remember the time had changed.”

“It’s all right, Friar, we’re all here early,” the Grey Lady waved off, “Now before we get to the heart of the matter, does anyone have any other subjects they wish to discuss?”

There were several “no”’s and a few “I don’t think so”’s, and Sir Nicholas himself couldn’t muster up anything in particular. His house wasn’t behaving strangely, there was no bizarre rumors, and he didn’t want to talk any further about Gryffindor’s loss at the last Quidditch game. “I don’t believe there’s anything else we’re present for.”

"Very well. Peeves, you've been keeping an eye on Professor Flemming for over two months now. Has she learned anything about the castle?"

"No." Peeves began to thread the string between his fingers.

"What do you mean, no?"

"Said no, meant no," Peeves said simply, a look of concentration taking the place of his usual mischievous grin; he seemed to be making an hourglass shape. "She hasn’t remembered what  staircase goes where, let alone learned where we keep the cutlery. Says we need a directory."

"Has she asked about maps?"

"No. Tried looking for one in the library, I bet. Fat lot of good it would do her."

The Grey Lady steepled her fingers together, her usual expression of quiet deep thinking in place. "I've heard from the others that you've observed her recording your conversations. Is there anything changed in what she has taken down and what was said?"

"Nope." The yo-yo slipped through the center of the now-elaborate loops and swung it to and fro. Even though Sir Nicholas was used to this behavior, as Peeves seemed to move all the time, it was difficult not to look a _little_.

"Has she asked you anything about us ghosts?"

Peeves grinned, eyes flashing in the lady's direction. "Only which one came first."

Miss Ravenclaw's eyes narrowed a fraction; Sir Nicholas knew she was growing cross. He didn’t blame her, as Peeves poking fun at their deaths was never really welcome, despite it being often. He was very used to it coming from Peeves, but as Miss Ravenclaw hardly talked to the poltergeist, it irritated her far more. At least, that was what Sir Nicholas figured.

"Then what has she asked about you?"

"Couple things."

"Such as?"

Peeves let the strings go, causing the toy to fall onto the table with a clunk and a short, whispery sort of whistle. “Oh look, it had one last scream in it after all,” he commented with a cheerful grin. “I guess _technical taps_ really work…”

There was a pause, where the ghostly woman shut her eyes and seemed to be trying to draw a breath. “Peeves,” Miss Ravenclaw ground out, “ _focus_ . What does Professor Flemming ask you in regards to _yourself_?”

“Why don’t you just _ask_ her? I’m _sure_ she’d tell you.” The poltergeist teased, undoing the mess of knots. “After all, she’s obsessed with ghosts. Thinks there’s more than just magical ones. She’s keen on the idea that muggles have their _own_ sort of magic - psychic abilities and all that.”

“Peeves, you are not answering my questions.”

“More like you’re not listening.” Peeves leaned back in his chair with an air of smugness, pulling away at a particularly hard knot. Sir Nicholas always disliked that expression; it promised pure aggravation for whoever it was directed to. “I’m _telling_ you what I’ve found out. Bottom line is that she’s _not_ interested in burning the castle to the ground. The only things she wants to know is what I’m made of, what _you lot_ can do, and if ordinary folk can become specters. It’s why she pokes her nose into your business.”

“How peculiar,” a deep raspy voice from the end of the table broke out. The Bloody Baron had spoken at last; Sir Nicholas was wondering when he would chime in, as Peeves was not being cooperative in the least. He didn’t seem as upset with Peeves behavior as he usually was - the ghost was looking at the leaping fire in the grate. “I’ve never heard of mere muggles becoming ghosts.”

Peeves grin faded a little. “I hadn’t either, until she brought it up, your Bloodiness,” he replied in the most respectful tone he could muster.  

“What does she hope to accomplish with such outlandish talk…” He trailed off, watching the fire spit and pop. His gaunt face and ever-present glare looked more inquisitive than bored. Of course, a lifetime of seeing the Baron made Sir Nicholas pick up on these things with ease - he came off as quite morose and temperamental to anyone else.

“Prove a point, sir?”

The Baron turned his attention to the head of the table, his steely gaze locked on the poltergeist. “There _are_ no muggle ghosts, Peeves. We surely would’ve met them by now.”

Peeves seemed to be struggling not to say anything in response; he was keeping his jaw clamped shut, even as his black eyes darkened and his face flushed. Peeves often grew frustrated when the Slytherin ghost was preventing him from doing anything he wanted, but it had been quite a while since Sir Nicholas had seen Peeves this upset over something so small… It was like he was actually offended that the Baron disagreed with Professor Flemming. But that was preposterous.

“Our foreign professor has yet to speak to me, either… How did she happen to talk to the rest of you?”

There was a brief collective pause, and then one by one the ghosts at the table recounted. Found outside the library, seen coming out of a painting, happened upon in the hallway or an empty classroom… With the exception of Miss Myrtle and Professor Binns (who sleepily mentioned her deliberately dropping by his office), they had all met the professor by chance.

“What about you, Peeves?” Sir-Knight Trechadod asked. “You’re the only one who hasn’t said anything.”

“Yeah, well, _I_ sort of found _her_.”

“Tried to give her a fright and ruffle her feathers?” Helga the Heretic scoffed, her noose swinging slightly. “Typical.”

Peeves glared at the witch. “At least _my_ hobby isn’t gossiping to anyone who has _ears_ . But I guess not _having_ a life makes things-”

“Peeves,” Sir Nicholas chided, knowing full well he sounded just as annoyed as Peeves would want, “don’t start _that_ argument again. Just answer Lady Ravenclaw’s question.”

“No.” Peeves crossed his arms, his face darkening. “It’s none of your businesses what Phlegmy asks me.”

The ghost could feel his head threaten to fall over as he turned a little too quickly. “Oh please, Peeves, we’ve all known you for hundreds of years already; it can’t be _that_ personal.”

The Fat Friar leaned forward, and sure enough he spoke in light tones. “Nicholas, be fair, he has a point. All of us want some form of privacy... If he’s _sure_ Professor Flemming isn’t doing anything nefarious, then I don’t see why that question is relevant. I know she’s researching Peeves -”

“How do you know that?” The Grey Lady asked, staring down the table with a hard glint in her eye.

Friar Glaedwine’s cheeks turned silver. “She told me herself.”

“Why did you not tell us this _sooner_?”

“I - I wanted to confirm it. Peeves knows she’s studying him, as he said, so...now I know she was telling the truth.” Sir Nicholas wished the Hufflepuff ghost had a habit of keeping his hands on the table; it was hard to tell if he was fidgeting or not when they were out of sight. Still, Friar Glaedwine was a terrible liar as it was, and there was no real _reason_ for him to lie. “With Peeves’ additions, it makes more sense now, of course, why she had so many books on psychics on her shelf…”

“Friar, in the future, do not keep such things quiet. And as inclined as I am to believe you, we don’t know if she’s telling you the truth.”

“Oh _come on_ !” Peeves yelled, his face turning more lavender as he floated a foot above his chair, glaring down at the Ravenclaw ghost. “What am I _here_ for then?! _I’m_ telling you she’s not up to anything! Is your head so far up your own ass you can’t _hear_ me?!”

The light flickered only for a second, but despite the ghosts not being able to feel anything on their skin, they could feel the temperature of the room dip. They knew from experience what was coming, and Sir Nicholas sturdied his shoulders in preparation.

“That is _enough_ !” the ghostly Baron shouted - Peeves flinched, as if hit, and reflexively backed up. “ _Your_ words are not enough to persuade me, nor anyone _else_ at this table. Forgive me, Glaedwine,” he said in a gentler tone towards the Hufflepuff ghost, “but I cannot go by your words alone, either. I will have to see the professor for myself.”

“What?!” Peeves’ face turned pale. “You _can’t_!”

“I _can_ , and I _will_. I will make my own judgement as to whether or not she can be trusted. And as you said yourself, Peeves, she’s more likely to tell me what you two talk about.”

“She’s - she’s not even _home_!”

The Grey Lady stared at Peeves, her brows knitted together. “This _isn’t_ her home, Peeves.”

“You know what I meant!” he rounded on her, eyes shooting daggers. “Is this what it’s about?! Her being _foreign_ ? A thousand years of seeing half the globe mix together and you can’t trust her because she was born _an ocean away_?!”

“Peeves,” the Grey Lady began in a sharp condescending tone, her cheeks now very silver, “ _everyone_ wants our secrets to our success! Do you _really_ think I would trust a substitute teacher from country founded on rebellion, let alone one that rebelled against _us_ a few hundred years ago? Do you have any idea what could happen if we went to war with another country again, and our enemies knew our defenses better than He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?!”

“You _paranoid bi-!_ ”

“PEEVES!” The Baron roared, standing at last; Peeves swiftly backed away, looking as if Death themselves were talking to him. Sir Nicholas almost felt pity for him, had he not known the poltergeist long enough to know what he was about to say. “You will silence yourself _this instant_ !” Peeves had already gone very quiet and still. “I will go see Professor Flemming for myself. I will give my own opinion on the matter. _You_ , Peeves,” he said icily, “will continue to do your job, and the next time we ask you to answer a question, _you will answer it fully_. Do I make myself clear?”

“...yes, sir,” he muttered, not looking at him.

“Where is the professor now?”

“Slughorn’s.”

“Good. I will go now, before the night wears on any further.”

The Baron left, drifting through the wall with ease and bringing the colder air with him. Peeves, on the other hand, hovered there for a moment with his hands curled into fists and whatever he had for blood rushing to his face, and with a loud _crack_ he vanished into thin air.

The Grey Lady seemed to sag with relief, though she still held a prideful frown. “Thank God that’s over with. I don’t know how much more of _either_ of them I can stand.”

“Should we wait for the Baron to come back?” Sir-Knight Trechadod asked.

“I should hope not. Really puts a damper on the Christmas cheer, having him around, doesn’t it?” Helga quipped.

“I’ll go talk to him later,” Friar Glaedwine chimed, looking rather downcast. “He hasn’t gotten that angry in a while…”

No, neither of them hadn’t, and that bothered Sir Nicholas… If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that Peeves was _standing up_ for the professor. He _was_ spending time with her, and she seemed to be pretty alright with it from what he had seen in her office earlier... She may have threatened to curse him, but it sounded more of a friendly argument than anything… And again, Peeves had deliberately _given_ her something to replace what he had broken…

No, it was a foolish thought. The very _idea_ of Peeves having so much as a _crush_ on a person was impossible. The two things simply didn’t mix. The little man didn’t have a compassionate bone in his body, let alone one of _romance_ . No, Peeves must’ve liked the radical idea of muggle ghosts, and _that_ was why he had gotten so upset.

“My Lady, do you really think Professor Flemming is after our defenses? I must admit, I fail to connect the dots,” Sorcerer Hywel, a ghost with an arrow constantly poking out of his back, said from his seat next to Professor Binns.

“Part of it is my instinct,” she answered, straightening herself, “but most of it revolves around one singular suspicion:  why is she so keen to learn about how we interact with the world around us, when there are several publications on the matter, if not to try and exorcise us?”

There was a sudden murmur of chatter to accompany the occasional snore from the still-dozing Professor Binns, but many ghosts seemed to generally agree with her view. Sir Nicholas knew the ghost’s reasons were well-intentioned and, on the whole, rather sound, but even if he detested admitting it, Peeves did point out _something_ that had a bit of merit - after nine-hundred years of being a ghost, Miss Ravenclaw _had_ grown to be a tad paranoid. She didn’t talk to any student outside of her house, after all.

Still, Sir “Nearly-Headless” Nicholas de Mimsey-Porpington would never have put that notion in such a tactless and rude manner to a lady.

*~*~*~*~*

Even amidst the constant chatter of fifty different conversations and the festive music blaring from the record player in the corner, Cyrus could swear he could hear Irene Yates’ voice from across the room.

Of course, he was probably just being paranoid. But he had good reason to be. He’d gotten roped into a twenty-minute long conversation and only barely got away. Even if he had wanted to, he couldn’t get a word in; she just kept talking and _talking…_ He tried excusing himself for a drink, but she followed along. He tried to find Nolan amongst the crowd and signal him to come over and get him out of this corner of hell, but of course Nolan was chatting animatedly to some professional rune translator, and after failing to get his attention for a several minutes, Cyrus figured he’d never bring Nolan with him to a party again.

Cyrus knew he’d have to find someone else to talk to, but for now his primary goal was to get as far away from Irene as possible. The balcony door was locked, so there was no use in going out there, and the snack table was periodically swarmed with people every five minutes, so that was no use either…

There was, of course, the enormous, lavishly decorated Christmas tree that got stuck in the front corner of Slughorn’s spacious office. It was so big that Cyrus was sure Hagrid could hide behind it and barely have to bend over. And of course, Irene had no chance of seeing him there. The only beings that _would_ see him would be the faeries stuck in the little colored bulbs that wrapped around the entire thing, glowing and preening for the crowd.

Cyrus wasted no time in scuttling over to it, his ears sensitive to every little noise and his eyes peeled for the freckled brunette who could talk the ear off an elephant. The smell of fresh pine wafted into his nostrils as he shuffled behind the tree and tried not to knock off any of the house-themed baubles that hung from many a branch. Thankfully, there was enough of a gap that he didn’t have to get shish-kebabbed on any of the limbs.

He concentrated on the blue-and-bronze striped ornament nearest him, forcing himself to breath in and out slowly. He didn’t need to strain his ears so much anymore - the majority of the crowd was a buzz of mumbled words, and there seemed to be only one pair of people conversing near the tree.

“-and it’s been a real adjustment. Bayard had literature like any non-magic school, but even without it we had a mandatory foreign language and at least one extracurricular. There’s nothing like it here… Did they have any non-magic classes at your old school?” Professor Flemming asked politely.

“Euell, yes, _Castel de Cunoștințe_ had an _excellent_ music program,” a man with a thick Romanian accent replied, “ze best in ze continent, in zact. I learned ze violin zere; it’s how I got into ze Trans-Syberian Orchestra.”

“Oh wow, I’d love to hear those recordings,” Dandrane commented cheerfully and paused. “Oh, that’s one thing I _can_ say Hogwarts has - a choir. A better one than my class at Bayard had, too,” the professor said with a laugh.

“Eu know, I have heard good things about Ilvermorney zrom ozers,” the Romanian man said. “Euhere you born in Canada, and zat is why you attended Bayard?”

There was a lengthy pause.

“I have ozzended you.”

“No, no, it’s not that, I’m sorry, I’m just...surprised.”

Cyrus peered around the other side of the tree to try and see what was going on. Professor Flemming was still wearing her little sunglasses, but that wasn’t so unusual - it was the leather biker jacket she wore over her black turtleneck that was odd. She was wearing jeans, too, making even Cyrus’ Christmas-sweater-and-slacks combination look more formal. Her hair wasn’t spiked, either, though it was still it’s usual bright pink; she had swept two-thirds of it to the side in a sort of wave. She was swirling some cloudy green liquid in a cocktail glass with a cherry, seeming to contemplate it.

“How do I put this… The American education system is...messy.”

“Messy?” The Romanian man asked, a brow raised. He had the sort of ‘dashing rogue’ appearance with his unshaven-for-several-days face, but his dark brown hair was short and elegantly styled, and despite his lack of tie and seam-lines in his slacks, he looked rather dressy, with his button-down shirt and plain black dinner jacket. It was the kind of elegance that Cyrus could only hope to achieve.

“Yeah. We don’t have just one or two big schools in America - we have one in every state. They’re like universities here, only for magical children.” The professor took a small sip of her drink. “But unlike here, they aren’t paid for by the government - they’re paid for by the students and private investors.”

“ _Euhat?!_ Your country doesn’t have zree education for wizards?”

“Well, we have schools that are open to the public, but they’re smaller and they tend to be scattered all over the place, so most kids have to travel to the next city or so every day in order to attend.”

“Euhy didn’t you attend one of zose?”

“They don’t have as a good reputation as the private-funded schools, and my dad wanted me to get a good education. The US, Canada and Mexico have an agreement that allows children to attend certain schools if you pass a test and get granted an education visa. It ended up actually being cheaper for me to get a visa and pay the tuition for Bayard rather than attend one of the big private schools - and some of those are stingy on who gets in, anyway. I couldn’t attend any big school in Washington or Oregon without being slapped with out-of-state fees, either, and even the _best_ public schools required you to be a resident of the state first. The public schools near me were alright, but Cal-Magics was too expensive to live in and too far to travel to normally, and taking the Floo was right out for me; I get nasty headaches every time, and the medicine for that would’ve cost too much to use daily.”

The Romanian man looked puzzled. “Zen...euhat is Ilvermorney? I always heard it euas ze biggest magic school in America.”

“It is, but it’s only because it’s made for the rich.” Dandrane scowled into her glass. “Bunch of stuck up elitist bastards, if you ask me,” she growled. “Their curriculum isn’t anything too special, so I don’t know why they’re so high and mighty about themselves, either. They have the _strictest_ requirements to be a student, too, and I swear the tuition cost would make Ebenezer Scrooge blush. _Disgusting_ amounts of money for a single semester, and even more for living on campus, which ninety-percent of the kids do anyway. You know the gold goblets Hogwarts has for dining? A couple of those would pay for a full year at Ilvermorney.”

The man looked shocked; Cyrus couldn’t blame him. He’d always thought Ilvermorney was the most popular school in America, with how everybody talked about it when they mentioned any school in the west, but here his professor was, trashing it like it was yesterday’s jam.

“And you still had to pay for Bayard?”

“Yeah, but it was several thousand dollars less in the end and I didn’t have to take the Floo every day to get there, so it worked out.” She took another sip. “Though to be honest, some of the teachers didn’t deserve to work there, let alone _as_ teachers,” she said in a quieter tone, her lips curling into a smile. “I became a teacher partly out of spite for some of my old professors.” _Out of_ spite _? Bloody hell, what’s her reason for becoming an auror?_ “I showed them, the kid’s GPA’s have _always_ risen in _my_ classes; these kids aren’t an exception, either, thankfully. Good kids, these guys,” she said with a bigger grin, raising her glass in a gesture - or was it a toast? - to the crowd of well-dressed adults and students.  

Something had shifted in Cyrus’ peripheral vision, and the boy felt compelled to just glance over.

Audrey was leaning against the wall, appearing to just be casually standing by the tree with a crystal cup of warmed wassail in her hand. Cyrus felt the heat rush to his face - Irene was a friend of hers, they might have even come to the party together, of course he was going to be found out in _seconds_ and here he was with nowhere to go, no excuse for why he’d been hiding -

“What are you doing back there?” Audrey asked quietly behind her cup, appearing to drink but keeping it just far enough away to talk and not spill anything.

“Erm…” _What am I supposed to say? ‘Sorry, just hiding from your friend because she won’t shut up about every little thing?’_

“Irene was looking for you.”

“Please don’t tell on me,” Cyrus blurted in a low, unthinking voice. _Great, you look like a real man now, don’t you? Whimpering about being seen by a girl…_ “I-I mean -”

“If you don’t want me to, I won’t.” Audrey took a real sip, watching the crowd with her usual serious expression. “It’s a shame. She was really excited to come, she’d wanted to wear that dress for ages.”

“Uh… Sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” She side-eyed him, the marble green irises brightening in the glow of the fairies. “Standing behind a tree isn’t a crime.”

Cyrus felt a sort of warmth bloom within his chest. Was...was she protecting him? “Thank you,” he said as his shoulders sagged with complete relief. “But… I thought you two were friends, though...”

“Yes… Which is why I haven’t just ducked behind the tree to talk to you. She’d be really upset if she saw me like that.”

“Oh, right… I guess I’d be upset if my friend was hiding with someone I was looking for, too.”

Audrey blinked, and then turned towards him slightly, a sort of disappointment lining her face. “That’s...not really what I meant. Isn’t it obvious?”

“Uh...no?”

She sighed. “Nevermind. I should go back out. I can’t keep talking to myself here.” Audrey had only gone two steps when Cyrus heard the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing, and he couldn’t help but look down along with her, even if he had to peek around the tree and avoid the silver snake ornaments that kept slithering around the branches. The heel of her shoe had got caught on the end of her floor-length skirt, tearing the lace trim away.

“Oh, it’s just the hem, that’s-” Cyrus was going to say ‘easy to fix’, but Audrey suddenly looked like she was going to cry. “It’s okay, it’s not that bad-”

It was no use, she was looking at her leg like it was the end of the world.

“A simple Mending Charm would fix it.”

“...I can’t do those,” she mumbled, pink patches coming to her cheeks.

Cyrus felt a mix of things at that moment. Disbelief that she couldn’t do a simple mend, confusion over her being so upset over something so _small_ , and the natural compulsion to help. “I’ll do it for you, if you want.”

“...thank you.”

Without another word - or look - from Audrey, they shuffled themselves over to the door as casually as possible, passing Professor Flemming and the Transylvanian gentleman, who seemed to be happily discussing rare books from their homelands. The Slytherin put her half-empty drink on the nearest flat surface, and with a barely-heard creak of the office’s door, they were out into the empty, silent hall.

They stopped in front of the nearest torch, passing under a very charred spring of mistletoe - the third one Cyrus had seen today - and when they finally faced each other Cyrus realized not only how awkward this was going to be, but how _different_ Audrey looked that evening. The bun on her head was shiny and neat this time, and the two long locks of hair on either side of her face were loosely curled and fell past her thick bare shoulders. Her top, too, was different - a black satin shirt that tied around her neck and exposed her cleavage, which Cyrus had never seen before and was, in fact, so unexpectedly large that he had to force himself not to look down.

“Do you want me to conjure a chair to stand on?” She asked, her tawny cheeks still tinged pink.

“No, that’s okay,” Cyrus said, half-wondering where she’d pull her wand out from if she didn’t have pockets, “I can just kneel down. Which side was it?”

The Ravenclaw conjured a pillow to rest his knees on and sat on the stone floor as Audrey lifted her skirt up somewhat for him to see, twisting the torn spot towards him. He pulled out his wand, concentrating on soft emerald fabric in his hand and lining it up with the black lace so the hem would be straight.

“Did you ever talk to Lucas?” She asked out of nowhere, her voice once again calm and flat.

Cyrus felt like he could fry an egg on his face. “Well, yeah…”

“What’d he say?”

Oh God, it was embarrassing enough to have to tell the story _once_ to Stan and Nolan. Twice was one time too many. “Well, er, I tried to tell him to keep an eye open, but, uh… Felix got to him first.”

He could feel like someone was watching him; she must’ve been staring down at him. He didn’t blame her.

“Yeah, apparently my brother took him aside weeks ago and told him someone was trying to slip him something in his food and that he should watch out, too. So I just told him not to trust Francine.”

“I see…” She trailed off. “How did he take that?”

“Rather well, actually. Apparently she’s been avoiding him a lot lately, and he thinks now it makes sense if she’s trying to mess up his chances at the Cup or something.”

“Hm… I noticed her avoiding him, too.”

“You don’t _follow_ her, do you?” Cyrus asked as the fabrics’ torn threads repaired itself under the guide of his wand.

“No. She’s been sitting farther away from him at mealtimes. Kelly told me she’s a little spacier, too, and she wasn’t before… What _did_ Professor Flemming say to her, anyway?”

Cyrus went through the story in as few words as he could make it, though he did so as quietly as possible; there was no telling who could overhear. “And I swear, she was right bloody pissed at Platts, she knocked the clock off his mantlepiece - it _might_ have been a magical discharge, but still…”

“I wonder if she’s responsible for his broken mirror…”

“Mirror?”

“His bathroom mirror got broken a few weeks ago; I heard him talking to Professor Slughorn. He’s having problems fixing it.”

“I didn’t think you could break those. I’ve seen a giant shampoo bottle hit one and it just bounced right off.”

“You can. They tend to repair themselves after a minute.”

Cyrus glanced up at her curiously, pausing in his mending. “Really?”

“I swung my bat at it once.” The teen boy raised his brows, and she blushed fiercer and looked away. “There was a spider.”

The teenager couldn’t help but laugh at the complete normalcy of it. “Sorry, I just didn’t think you’d be afraid of _spiders_ ,” he said with a chuckle. “You could probably take down Hercules, but you’re afraid of a tiny _bug_...”

“It was the size of a saucer, actually…”

Well, that would make him whip out a bat, too, if he was honest. “Sorry...”

“You think I could take down Hercules?” She asked a little softly. Cyrus couldn’t help but think that the torch light reflected in her eyes made her look rather pretty. Her skin was awfully smooth, too; she looked like she’d never had a pimple in her life.

“Well, you did lift a 15-pound book with three fingers. I’d say that’s pretty strong,” he smiled up at her briefly before looking back the the hemline. _Three...two...there, that’s the last stitch._ “Ok, all fixed.” He put his wand back in the front pocket of his trousers and tried to stand, only to find that despite the cushion under him, his knees felt numb. “Uh, Audrey?”

“Yes?”

“I’m kind of stuck.”

The young witch extended her hand. It was weird, grasping it for the few seconds he needed to pull himself up; it was warm and surprisingly soft, not at all like he had expected. Of course, he hadn’t held hands with a girl since he was five, but he didn’t expect it to be so...nice.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied. Even standing almost eye-to-eye with her, his legs felt slightly wobbly.

“Good... Thank you for fixing my skirt,” she said, looking away a little. Her blush still hadn’t gone away. “I...um…” She normally looked right at him - what was something wrong?

Cyrus was about to ask when something happened to the air - a chill crept down his back like a spider scuttling down a pipe. It penetrated his skin and soaked the cold into his bones so suddenly it was almost like he had stepped outside into a freezing downpour.

Audrey had gone a tad pale, and did not tear her eyes away from over his shoulder.

“Good evening, Baron,” she said, standing up a little straighter.

The Bloody Baron was indeed hovering a few feet away from them, his transparent grey body making the light on the opposing wall dismal. No one could see the gaunt, staring face of the Baron without eventually being drawn to the silver stains that painted the front of his torso. The bloodstains that gave his nickname, though it was hard to see where they started and where they ended… It, of course, was no help that the Baron would grow irritable when someone started to stare for too long.

“Evening,” Cyrus managed to say without his teeth chattering.

“I hope I am not interrupting, Miss Hayburth,” the Baron said in a hoarse, low voice that made the hairs on Cyrus’ neck stand on end, “but I have an important matter to attend to. Have you seen Professor Flemming this evening?”

“Yes, sir,” Audrey replied simply. “I can fetch her if you’d like.”

She didn’t wait for a reply; she turned and walked briskly back to the party, and for the second the door was opened, Cyrus could practically feel the warmth and liveliness inside even at such a distance, and he felt such a longing to run back in that it almost physically hurt.

Now he was left alone with the most intimidating person in the castle. Cyrus crossed his arms, clutching them to try and keep some warmth in, but it wasn’t much use. He was afraid to side-eye the Baron for too long, so he kept his eyes on the door, hoping that Audrey would come back out. Or maybe it would be better to hope that the Professor would come out alone, so he could excuse himself to find Audrey and rush back in.

What could the Baron want with a teacher, anyway? Professor Slughorn he could understand, as the potioneer was the head of Slytherin, but Professor Dandrane had no house, or really much of any authority in the school outside of the classroom. Maybe it was a Defense-related question? But it was almost silly to think of… Of course, he had heard of ghosts placing bets and having arguments before, so maybe it was on a subject that the Baron thought Dandrane would know?

The teen chanced a quick look at the gloomy ghost - he still floated a few centimeters above the floor, glaring at the office door like he was willing it to open. _I wonder why he didn’t just go inside? Unless he knows he ruins the mood of wherever he goes..._

The creak of the door and the three seconds of music and chatter were a blessing. The fact that both Audrey and the Professor were striding towards him was even better.

“Now this _is_ a surprise,” Professor Flemming said with a rather cheerful smile. A polished rectangular stone gleamed at the end of a long silver chain around her neck. Cyrus couldn’t help but stare at it for a moment; it made him think he was looking at a topographical map of an island, with the deep blue of the sea ebbing into turquoise and then fading into a light brown with a glimmer of green. For whatever reason, he felt a little warmer. “I thought Audrey was just giving an excuse to see me in private. I don’t believe we’ve met formally. It’s nice to meet you.”

The Baron turned to Audrey, though he appeared to be looking down his nose at her. “Thank you. You may go,” he said, framing it more like a command rather than a suggestion.

“Woah, _woah_ , they don’t have to go anywhere,” Dandrane replied quickly, sticking her hands in the pockets of her black leather jacket and leaning against the wall. “I’m sure whatever you have to say can be said in front of two teenagers.”

“No, Professor, it’s alright. We’ll go,” Audrey said, and Cyrus followed suit, only to take a left into the nook by the door as quietly as possible. He knew if he left the door to Slughorn’s office open that he wouldn’t be able to hear anything.

“No offense, but you did take me away from a rather interesting conversation, Baron, and I’d like to get back to it. What can I help you with?”

Audrey looked at him curiously, but made a show of opening and closing the door, pointing her wand - which she drew from her back - at her feet before following him. She must’ve cast a silencing or muffling charm on her shoes, as Cyrus didn’t hear her move at all.

Cyrus pressed himself against the wall, peeking out only slightly around the corner; he could see, but barely. He could feel the Slytherin girl’s body heat next to him, warming him considerably more now that they were far away from the Baron, but she had closed her eyes and folded her arms, choosing to listen rather than watch.

The ghost was staring hard at the witch. “Then I will get straight to the point:  I want to know if Peeves has been bothering you.”

It was a question entirely out of left field; Cyrus had never seen Peeves and the _Defense_ professor together before, but since she was new to the staff, Peeves was likely to try and antagonize her - at least, it seemed logical for him to do so, as the poltergeist’s favorite targets were newbies. Cyrus had figured he must’ve been behind the desk-pile fiasco in her classroom earlier that year, but he didn’t see or hear of anything like that since...

“Bothering me? No way,” Professor Flemming replied with a grin and a snort of laughter, “He’s a bit annoying sometimes, but at the end of the day that guy’s one of the more fun people around here.” The witch pulled out what looked like a piece of candy from one of her pockets and began to unwrap it. It was strange, seeing her so incredibly relaxed; did the cold atmosphere really not bother her? _Well, if she thinks Peeves is fun, then I guess the horrible feeling the Baron emits is pretty tame in comparison..._ “If he _did_ do something to annoy me, I’m _pretty_ sure I could handle him, you know.”

“What does he do in your office?” The Baron asked coldly, his silver eyes piercing; the professor didn’t seem to notice and popped a bright pink piece of candy into her mouth. It was hard to tell exactly what she was thinking, as her glasses were still firmly over her eyes. “He seems to be in there quite often these days.”

“We have an agreement,” Professor Flemming said casually in-between chews, “He comes and goes whenever he likes, and in exchange I get to ask him questions. Mostly about himself; what powers he has and so on. Bounce ideas off him occasionally, too.” Just when Cyrus thought she couldn’t get any more nonchalant, his Defense professor blew a gum-bubble and let it drift away into the air. “I’m surprised he didn’t tell you - I mean, I know he gives some roundabout answers, but it’s not exactly hard to piece things together with that guy. Of course, I’m also assuming you asked him _before_ you dragged me out here.”

“I am inclined not to believe half of what he has to say. I advise the same for you.” The Baron narrowed his eyes at the pink-haired witch, and Cyrus practically felt the air get denser. Maybe it was the threatening way the ghost spoke. “Encouraging him will do you no favors.”

“I dunno, seems to working in my favor so far. I’ve learned more about ghosts and poltergeists from him than anyone else. And he’s the only one who complimented my shoes today, so that’s a plus.”

Cyrus was too curious not to look; her heels were a shiny metallic silver, and...were those little spikes on the top of them?

“You’ve talked to my fellow ghosts, I’ve heard. Yet I find it curious that you haven’t sought to talk to me,” the ghost said plainly, still glaring.

“What, you want an interview, too?” Professor Flemming stood up straight and took a very obvious look at his torso, straightening her sunglasses for a moment. Not for the first time, Cyrus wondered if they were prescription lenses. “Hm… Can you turn around for me?”

The Baron furrowed his brow. “No.”

“Well you’re no fun. How am I supposed to see the exit wound?” _Exit wound?!_ “I mean, I can’t determine the angle of impact correctly if you don’t turn around.”

The Baron said nothing.

“Fine, be that way. So were you executed before your trial? I’m surprised you’re in such a lavish outfit, for a guy in chains…”

Admittedly, that was something Cyrus had wondered about before, too, when he first saw the Bloody Baron four years ago… But it wasn’t exactly the most delicate way to put it. He didn’t know of anyone who asked before, either.

“I was not _imprisoned_ ,” the Baron sneered.

“Then how did you get those? A kink scene gone wrong or something?”

If Cyrus had a drink, he would’ve done a spit-take. _I’m not hearing this, I’m not hearing this-_

“I _created_ these,” the Bloody Baron growled in his harsh voice, “You dare stand there and _insult_ me - ”

“Oh, don’t take it like that, I wasn’t _trying_ to insult you. I’m not the kind of person to shame you for things that go on behind closed doors,” the professor waved off, letting another small pink bubble go. “But why else would a well-dressed man put himself in chains just before he’s killed? Or did you decide to kill yourself, and conjure those as a way to bind you to the unending mortal coil we call life?”

“You are as much an insolent child as that poltergeist,” the Baron said with a disgusted snarl, his face flushed with a slightly metallic grey. “I cannot fathom how anyone else could think otherwise.”

“Dunno,” the professor shrugged, a wide grin blooming on her face. “Nice to know everyone else thinks highly of me, though,” she said with a low chuckle. “But at least I’m not a complete tool who intimidates children into doing shit for him. That little chill show of yours can’t make you very popular.”

A shudder went through Cyrus’ back; it was like a strong gust of wind and swept down the hallway and left the cold behind. The Bloody Baron’s face looked more gaunt and terrifying than ever, but the deep chill seemed to do nothing to Professor Flemming. She still leaned against the wall with her hands in her pockets, chewing gum and blowing bubbles like the ghost before her wasn’t glaring daggers at her.

“You had best tread carefully, Flemming. Hogwarts is not to be taken lightly.”

“Kinda figured that, what with your trick stairs and murder-forest and all that jazz.” A large bubble drifted away towards the ceiling, and the Professor finally stood straight up, grinning like it was all a joke. “Well, it’s been nice chatting with you, Baron, but if you don’t mind, I’m going to go back to working on my social skills. Happy Yule!”

With that final cheerful note, Cyrus ducked back into the small square space, and found himself being pulled into the corner of it by Audrey until they were as far out of sight as they could be. He heard the distinctive sounds of heels clicking on stone, and he was sure they were very close, just around the corner, until they stopped, mid-step.

“Woah, what…?”

There was a long pause - Cyrus could feel his heart pound so hard he thought he might have a coronary.

“Are you okay? You’re pretty pale… Were you here the whole time?”

Could she see through walls?!

There was another voice, so quiet Cyrus couldn’t hear who it was - she was talking to someone else. Where did they come from? How did they get there so fast? Had they been invisible there the whole time?

“...I’ll be back out in a minute. Do you want to wait for me here, or downstairs?”

There was a pause, and the teenage boy wished he had an extendable ear on him.

“Alright… Give me ten minutes.”

The Professor walked briskly towards the door, her heels clacking loudly, and Cyrus heard the rattling of armor down the hall that made his heart leap into his throat. Either the armor was changing places, or Peeves was coming, and he’d find them in no time.

But even after the office door shut again, there was nothing but stony quiet. The suit of armor must’ve moved, that was all...

Cyrus was just letting out a breath when Audrey moved away from him, her face quite red. “Uh, Audrey? Are you okay?”

“Let’s go back in, before she sees us.”

The party was warm and noisy, and it was as welcome as a breath of fresh air. Cyrus was surprised to see Nolan so near the door - the Ravenclaw rushed over to them, glancing at the Slytherin who brushed past them both a little too quickly.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you! What were you doing out there?”

“Bathroom,” he replied hurriedly. There was no way he’d tell the whole story while the Defense professor was still in the room with them.

“With _Audrey Hayburth_ ?” Nolan asked quietly with a cheeky grin. “I didn’t know you guys were so _close_.”

“It wasn’t like -” Cyrus began, but saw Irene’s ponytail over his friend’s shoulders, and quickly switched gears before they could make eye contact. “You know, how about we go talk about it _in private_?”

Nolan’s eyebrows rose a fraction. “Oh, uh, sure, I got you. I’m ready to go when you are.”

Cyrus took one last glance over at Irene, to make sure she hadn’t noticed them; she had her back turned to them, evidently talking to Audrey. He caught Audrey’s eye for the briefest moment, and tried to give a little smile of thanks, but Audrey looked away so quick he wondered if she’d even really seen him.

“It’s too bad Stan already went home for Hanukkah,” Nolan said as they stepped out into the chilly hallway. “Turns out Professor Slughorn knows that radio host he likes - Lee Jordan. Do you think he’d want his autograph as a New-Year’s present?”

“...you already got it for him, didn’t you?”

Nolan grinned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m just double-checking it with you. You never know, _some_ wizards might use eBay.”

*~*~*~*~*

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

The small clock on Dandrane’s desk was too loud for Peeves’ liking. Maybe it was because it was so damn dark and cold it kept breaking the stillness of it all. Or because she wasn’t there with him. Or because he was upset from having to deal with the Baron’s frightening atmosphere for so long already and the bleakness of the whole place was amped up with a ticking reminder that Dandrane had been gone for too long.

Ten minutes, she said. It’d been several over that. He’d _counted_.

The Baron had gotten cross with her. He felt it down the hallway and around the corner, where he could listen without being noticed, and even now he felt like he was a simple mortal. She sounded fine through the whole thing, like she was having a laugh, but...was she really? When he latched onto her arm to tell her he was there, she wasn’t shaking, she seemed more concerned with _him_ than anything, but how did he know that wasn’t a front? How did he know the Baron hadn’t doubled back to antagonize her when Peeves wasn’t there?

The door creaked, and Peeves rushed to sit more casually; he didn’t want to be caught sitting on her couch with his arms around legs, staring at the empty fireplace.

“Hey.” It was funny how a small word like that could make him feel so much better. The mere _sight_ of her brightened things up - tall, radiant, _confident_ , just...just a weird pillar of strength, somehow. Dandrane motioned her arm towards the grate and the large log inside reignited. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. You?”

“You don’t _look_ okay,” the witch said, closing the door gently with her foot. “You’re still pale. _And_ you’re sitting weird. Since when do you put your feet on the floor like everyone else?”

Peeves crossed his arms. “I can sit however I want!”

“That’s more like it.” Dandrane folded her little glasses carefully and set them on the mantle with her wand. “You were clinging to my arm awfully hard, though. Do you want to talk about it?”

He opened his mouth, a defiant _no_ on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t do it. He wanted to tell her about the meeting, of course he did, she had a right to know what everyone was thinking of her… And she had told him before she couldn’t read his mind. “Just sit already.”

“Well I wasn’t going to stand around all night,” she said with a tiny grin. She sank slowly into the seat next to him on the dark blue velvet, propping an arm up on the thick square pillow next to her and crossing her legs in front of her at the ankles. “Better?”

“A little.” They were so close, but so far. His throat felt tight; he felt like he needed something, like his body wanted to do something but he didn’t know what, just anything but sit like this…

“You want me to help warm you up?”

It was always hard to resist her, let alone when she looked at him with such caring, admiring eyes. He wasted no time in sitting himself flush next to her, leaning against her side and feeling warmth seep into him as she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, her leather jacket pressing against his skin. He felt her shudder underneath him.

“Fuck, man, you’re like a little ice cube. Did you go outside or something?”

He chuckled for a moment, snuggling into her and letting the smell of leather and pine wash over him. She was so comfortable...and she was here, right next to him, just for him. “How was Sluggy’s party?”

“Kinda nice, actually. I met some cool people in there, talked to one guy about different schools for a while, until one of my students politely interrupted me to tell me that the Baron was outside _looking_ for me. I thought she just wanted to get me alone, maybe ask about when the tests would be graded or something… Nope, he was really there! Is he _always_ that condescending?”

Peeves watched the flames leap about on the log. “Yeah.”

“Ugh, what a tool. I swear that expression ‘looked like you’d seen a ghost’ is pretty accurate, that was the _exact_ face those kids had with him. Do you think I’d be fired if I tried to exorcise him?”

“ _Can_ you?”

“Well, I’ve never _tried_ to before,” she shrugged. “It’s probably harder than it sounds. Might even be harder than that, with _that_ sort of presence… I’m guessing he’s always been able to make the temperature drop that drastically?”

“Yeah… Were you _really_ not affected by it?”

“Eh, I once stepped out into a blizzard in a tank top for a dare. When you’ve felt something like _that_ , everything else is absolutely toasty in comparison.”

Peeves wanted to laugh, as that was an incredibly ridiculous thing for her to have done, but how could stepping into a blizzard compare with how the Baron made people feel? It was like comparing stepping into the summer heat-wave and standing on top of a volcano, wasn’t it?

“Won twenty bucks out of that deal,” she said with a smile in her voice. “How about you? What’d the mysterious council want to know?”

“They still think you’re a spy trying to steal our secrets.”

“Yeesh, talk about paranoid. All I’ve done is teach and ask a few questions...”

“I tried to tell them that,” he muttered, looking at the spot where their thighs touched. Simple contact, but just looking at it made him feel like they were more intimate than that…

“What did you try to tell them?” Dandrane asked, running a few fingers through the parts of hair not covered by his belled hat. It sent a few tingles running over his scalp.

“That you only want to know more about us. Why’d they bother asking me to watch you if they’re not going to trust you, anyway?” He felt a spark of his old anger return. “I mean, I go there, I sit down, I tell them you’re only interested in how ghosts and poltergeists work, and they just blow me off!” He pulled away enough to look at her directly, to make sure she understood. “They wouldn’t listen to a word I said! They only think you’re out to get us all because you're some _foreigner_ ! Everyone thinks that nine-hundred-year-old brat is the _height_ of leadership, and the second I say anything against her, he just swoops in and - and - those fuckers think they know _everything_ !” He shouted, hearing something in the room rattle, like bells; his hat had fallen to the floor. “And I had to follow him after he shouted my _brains_ out, just to make sure you would be ok, and now he’s going to be even _more_ pissed off!”

She had been watching him with a mix of interest and caring concern, but there was a different light in her eyes now. “You went after him?”

“Well _yeah_ , how’d you think I caught up to you so fast?”

Dandrane was analyzing him; he could practically see the wheels in her mind whirling. “Peeves, does it _hurt_ when the Baron gets angry with you?”

Of course she’d ask. Why wouldn’t she? He felt heat rush to his face; he couldn’t look at her earnest, caring expression. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He felt her pet his head gently, like he was a cat, and he saw her turn to face him but he couldn’t bear to look. He was Peeves, master of chaos, upholder of mischief - who ever heard of him being _weak_?

She wrapped her arms around him, and once more he found himself burying his face into her collarbone and returning the gesture, comfort and arousal blossoming under her every touch. She rubbed his back, and he found himself stroking the soft leather that encompassed hers, not wanting to think at all about anything other than how it felt to touch her.

The witch kissed the top of his head. “Are you feeling a little better, at least?”

“Mm-hmm,” Peeves murmured against her.

“Do you really like this jacket that much?”

He grinned against her, nuzzling against her deliberately. “Mm- _hmm_. Better with you in it.”

“I’d hope so, I’d curse you for stealing it if you tried,” she said with a laugh in her voice, and Peeves felt his heart shudder. He was warm, but he wanted more. She pulled away, and she quirked a smirk at him, light dancing in her eyes. “Not too hard, though. I still like you too much.”

They seemed to reach for each other at the same time, and a few soft kisses - the sort that made Peeves feel all fluttery - turned into a deeper ones, and Peeves figured he knew what he needed right now. He needed _her_.

She was something to touch, to taste, to remind him that for all of magic’s sake he was _alive_. She was the only person to make his heart run like a damn drum, to make his skin burn, to make him feel like a real person and not just some castle leech. Dandrane Flemming, Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, was the only person he’d felt like this about to date, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dandrane pulled away, leaving him hazy and full of energy all at once. He wanted to just dive right back into making out with her, keep that nice buzzing feeling under his skin going, but she didn’t move to stop - she took off her jacket, tossing it to the floor without a care. “Do you want to pick up where we left off earlier?”

“You mean when I had my hand down your pants?” He asked, feeling his usual grin return at the memory of their last make-out session, where his hands had wandered below her belt for a good long while, making her moan into his mouth as he tried not to just cum in his trousers. It’d been fun up until Nick’s untimely visit, and she had scrambled to her bedroom to fix herself up and he’d had to deal with trying to calm himself down. But there wouldn’t be any interruptions this time. “I’d like a bit more than that.”

Her smile was more feral than amused. “You sure you can handle it?”

“I’ll take anything you give me.” And he meant it, despite how quiet his voice came out just then.

“Good to know. But if you want to stop, say so,” she said low, icy blues flashing. She peeled off her turtleneck and the long necklace she wore in one fell swoop, dropping it on the carpet below them. Peeves’ eyes naturally wandered to her plain black bra - he felt the urge to pull it off and bury his head in her breasts, even though they were fairly small. He knew, though, that they were soft and sensitive, and he wondered what would happen if he put his _mouth_ on them rather than his hands.

Peeves felt like he had sunk into the couch like a weight as Dandrane tilted his head back up, caressing his chin as she leaned back into him. She kissed him before scraping her teeth against his lips, playfully nibbling as her right hand slowly ghosted down his front, and he felt bits of magic hover over him as he shivered; he felt the fabric slide away, and somehow his tie untied itself.  He reached around her, figuring he’d try to undress her, too, but despite how warm he had gotten his arms still sizzled against her bare skin, and he was growing lost in the sensation.

Dandrane leaned him back a bit, kissing him softly for a second before wrapping her lips around his throat instead, and Peeves fell completely under her spell. He could only cling to her as she ran her tongue over the exposed skin of his neck, kissing and sucking at bits of flesh, and he groaned loudly when she bit the apex between his neck and shoulder. He didn’t even comprehend that his head had hit the pillow behind him when she trailed her mouth lower, running her fingers over his chest and stomach, teasingly dipping below his hips for only seconds before trailing their way back up. The weight on top of him was nothing he couldn’t handle, but there was something oddly stimulating about it. Her tongue flicked over one of his nipples, and he looked down at her gorgeous head of short pink hair as sparks of pleasure ran straight to his already-stiffening cock. She did it again and again, alternating between using her lips or tongue and gently biting with teeth, each action inciting a different kind of heat, and that was something he didn’t quite understand, but it felt too good for him to care too much.

“Hmm,” she hummed against him before pushing herself up. “I don’t think this couch is big enough. Come on, we can shed clothes on the way,” she purred, moving to stand.

Peeves shrugged off his three top layers as she pulled off her shoes with practiced ease, dropping them with a _conk_ where she stood. Another step, and she started unhooking her bra, the long scar she had on her back in plain view, and he found himself pulling off shoes and trousers faster than it took for her to start unzipping her jeans.

He left his clothes in a pile on the office rug, and floated after her, feeling his erection twitch a little.

Seeing her naked this time was a very different experience. The first time, he’d been too focused on his anger towards her, and he felt guilty about the quick peep he had caught. The second time he’d been able to build a picture of what she must look like, but the whole experience had been awkward and nervy. The third time was the charm, apparently, because any doubt he’d had about how she felt about him was gone. There was absolutely no mistaking those confident bedroom eyes as she stepped out of the last of her clothes.

Peeves was eye-level with her now, and found his hands tangling themselves in her short locks and kissing her hard, well-aware that he was pressing himself against her; her skin seared his, and a pleasant burning sensation spread over his body as she wrapped her arms around him again. They were moving - she was pulling him along towards the bed as his tongue smoothed over hers, a funny vaguely-fruity-alcohol taste invading his mouth, practically tangling together as they fell onto the soft mattress. Perfume and sweat the unmistakable scent of pre-cum mingled with one another in varying degrees, and Peeves wasn’t sure if he preferred one powering over the other or not.

He felt the same way about Dandrane. She kissed him back feverishly, her tongue and hands wandering and groping over him to make him squeal and moan with delight along with her, but he was on top of her and he knew he could pin her to the bed if he wanted. It sounded like a good idea - after all, playing with her in her chair from behind had been a _great_ idea - but he didn’t know if he wanted to take the reins. She knew what she was doing and he was going by blind passion.

It certainly took him places, anyway. He pulled away to sink himself into her neck, and imitated what she’d done to him before, kissing places to draw in skin and suck, to which she gave a happy sigh and a murmur, and worked his way further down, dragging his hands away so he could prop himself up. (He felt like if he _floated_ , he’d fall right back down on top of her, and that wouldn’t end well.) He kissed past her collarbone, to the top of her chest, and then onto her left nipple. Dandrane moaned aloud as her fingers dug into his back; there was no way he was going to forget that sound, not _ever_ . He couldn’t help but put his whole mouth around her breast, just to see what she would do as his tongue rolled over the hard pink flesh - “ _oh fuck yes_ ” was the result, and Peeves alternated between that and sucking, which turned out to be as good for her as it was for him.

He felt his piping-hot erection press against her stomach, and he almost wanted to squirm against her for how damn hard he was. Fuck, she was so damn soft, so hot, so weirdly _tasty_ , and touching her almost anywhere incited pleased pets or noises from her. Peeves was always surprised at how she reacted to him - he turned her on, somehow, and it was like a long dream, knowing that _he_ was the one she wanted to pound into the mattress.

Dandrane’s magic was thrumming at him, and he sank lower, wanting to expand on what he had done for her before and put his mouth where his hands had been, but his eyes couldn’t help but run over her, wanting to look at and memorize every detail of her, despite how hard he was.

She had another scar. Three, actually, all fairly round and faint; one over a rib and the other two just above her left hip. He was curious, but the poltergeist had more pressing matters to attend to.

Her thighs were already spread open, like she’d been waiting for him to go down on her. She probably was, judging by the very excited look in her eyes as she leered down at him. Her snatch was surrounded by brown tufts of curly hair, and like before, she was practically dripping wet, white slick cum barely clinging to her pink flesh, even as he spread her open. It smelled musky, and, just like when he’d knelt down to look at it before, he’d had the strange urge to put his mouth on it, like he’d seen and heard other men do to their lovers.

This time, decisions were no longer necessary, so lustful instinct took over - Peeves found himself running his tongue over the whole length of her pretty pink slit, muskiness and magic coating his tastebuds and making him shudder. The magic in his body pumped furiously, driving his tongue to press harder and his whole mouth to cover it, and even though his eyes were closed he could still register how happy it was making Dandrane - one of her hands was pushing him forward, fingers tangling themselves in his hair, and she was moaning so _loud_.

“ _Oh my God_ \- ohhh _fuck_ \- Peeves, you wonderful bastard, don’t you _dare_ stop-!”

If he was more rational, he’d wonder if he even could. The taste was driving him nuts - he wanted more, _all_ of it, it was almost like he was _eating_ magic but now it had a definite taste and not just a feel… It was raw, warm, and _sticky_ , slightly salty, and fuck, it was _hers_ , it was spread all over the place, and it was almost like being caught in the middle of her outburst again! His tongue delved into her hole, the source of it all, and he didn’t know what he preferred, tasting it from there or absorbing it with her whirlwind of emotion. At least he didn’t have to choose between the two.

It was funny, though, how her muscles contracted around his tongue - once, twice, several times, somehow making him _harder_ , and then the hand in his hair was _gripping_ rather than petting and Dandrane gave a long, throaty groan.

Dandrane _came_. He had to pull away and look - she lay there, sweat shining a little in places, eyes shut hard, lips glistening and scrunched up, cheeks flushed, chest heaving slightly, hair messy…

She peeked at him through her blackened lashes, grinning down at him lopsided and sending another jolt straight to his heart. “Good boy,” she purred with a spark of humor. Her voice was always stimulating, but he wanted to fuck her even more when she talked like that. “Come up here...” She patted the spot on the covers next to her, trying to lean up on one elbow.

He did as she asked; she was watching, and even if he wasn’t watching her back he’d swear he could feel her eyes on him.

“Man, you’re hard as a _rock_ ,” she said with a smirk, tapping the tip with a finger. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this, you know.”

“Danny -” he started, but he didn’t know what he wanted to say. He trailed off, unable to say anything more, even as her startling eyes searched him for some sort of hint. He could only lie there, trapped in her gaze, almost unbelieving…

“You still want to, don’t you?” She asked more seriously, eyes softening. “‘Cause I can wait longer, if-”

“Do me.”

She looked taken aback for only a moment before her grin returned, a deep chuckle along with it. “What a nice way to put it… Okay then, lie back properly for me. Or do you want to sit up?”

“Sit.” Peeves shuffled himself around more towards the center of the queen-sized bed, feeling fresh excitement bubble beneath his skin. She bent over to get something from the bedside drawer, and he watched her every move - she had more of a straight figure than a curvy one, and it became more apparent when she knelt over his lap and tore open a strange silvery packet. This time, lust was shoved aside for curiosity. He’d never seen anything like that before. “What’s that?”

“Condom. You’ve been around a thousand years, I don’t know what your body’s been in contact with; and you’ll last a little longer. You look like you’d explode the minute I slip you in,” she smiled. “Though I would like to see you give me a cream-pie, I think we’ll wait on that.”

He didn’t entirely know what she meant, but he had the mental image of his cum splattered on her cunt, and the thought alone made him want to just go ahead and do it. It felt strangely good, both watching and feeling her unroll a strange rubbery clear sheath onto his dick, and he had to hold himself back; it felt a little better once it was on, sort of tight at the base...

She straddled his lap, and he could feel the heat from her twat on his tip and one of her hands grasping his shaft to keep him steady there. He couldn’t look, he was too focused on her face and the fact that she was wrapping her arm around his neck. He had to tilt his head back to look up at her, but he didn’t care. “Ready?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he said, shaky and quiet.

Dandrane sank slowly onto him, and he fell forward at the sheer feel of it. Warm heat wrapped around him, first comforting, then burning hot. He couldn’t think - all he knew was that he had to grab hold of her or he’d _burst_. She’d buried him in her so far he could feel her damp coarse hairs brushing his blue skin, and it was so stimulating he shuddered when she swiveled her hips. She was bobbing up and down in an unsteady slow rhythm, but he was clawing at her back and groaning into her chest. It took nothing but sheer willpower not to go over the edge at that moment.

She sank herself down and stopped. “Peeves, give me your hands.”

“W-why?”

“I want to hold them.”

It was torture for him to pull away, but he felt like he would rather die than let her down like this. Dandrane took his hands in hers so their fingers were laced and their palms were flat against each other. Hers were sweaty, but her grip was firm, and Peeves realized right then that this was the first time they’d really held hands skin to skin, like normal couples did.

But they certainly weren’t a normal couple, were they? The thought made him snicker, and it sent their genitals rubbing against one another.

“Now lie back.”

He expected her to fall with him, but she remained upright, her fierce blue eyes soft and clouded, and their hands still linked. He felt pressure against his palms as she started to ride him - she wasn’t just holding them, she was using them as _leverage_.

“Ooh, that’s better…” She sighed, riding him faster; his fingers curled around hers as pleasure seized him with every motion. She was so gorgeous, so brilliant, she really _was_ fucking him, it seemed like every nerve he had was lit up.  “Shit, you’re so _hard-_ ” she grunted, slamming herself down on him, “You’re so _cute…_ I wish you could see your face -”

Her own face was flushed, and she looked like she was going to cum too, and fuck did he want to, but - “Danny, I’m-I’m-”

She pressed harder against him, thrusting herself onto him faster, and her eyes rolled back into her head until she closed them - she clenched around him, shivering, moaning aloud, and he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t see anymore, he could just feel the pillow under his head and the muscles squeezing hard around his cock as some of her magic soaked into him, nothing but pure unadulterated pleasure coursing through him and making his brain rattle and his body tense, fuck why was she so good at this why was she so amazing why did he like her so much it _hurt-_

Peeves could think of nothing as he came, white-hot semen sitting at the head of his dick as the witch continued to thrust a few more times and then sit there, shaking, leaned over him with her hands still in his but pressed against the covers.

She looked like she was rapture. “Oh, Peeves, babe… You have the _cutest_ fucking o-face I’ve ever seen. I’m gonna take a picture of you like that one day.”

He didn’t know how she managed to do it, but Dandrane was able to bend over enough to kiss him. It wasn’t soft, but it wasn’t hard, either - _possessive_ was the only thing he could think of. Her tongue curled around his, and despite feeling so oddly drained and filled, it still sent a thrill through him.

She pulled away, leaving him only to watch as she plopped down next to him, a glimpse of a smarmy sort of smile catching his eye.

Peeves had never felt this way before. He wanted to lay there and simultaneously look at the ceiling to process everything that had happened as well as look at her for as long as possible. Partly because he wanted to remember every single detail, and partly because he wanted to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

Even as she lay next to him, a sweating, pink, lightly panting mess, Dandrane seemed perfect. He didn’t know how. She just _was_.

“That was fun,” she said tiredly, face half buried into the pillow. “I wish I didn’t have to get up early just to get on the train…”

His chest squeezed painfully. He had sort of hoped he could see her in the morning. “You’re not Flooing home?”

“Nah, I’m gonna apparate, but I’ve never ridden a train like the Express before, let alone one for _free_. Plus Maine is five hours behind you guys, so I’ll get home at a decent time.”

There was something about the way she looked at him that made his heart stammer hard. He knew that look, he’d seen it before, but he couldn’t give it a _name_. Dandrane reached over to caress his cheek, and he felt like he was dying in the best way possible.

“Do you want to sleep with me?”

“I thought I just did.”

She laughed, her eyes sparkling. “I meant sleep next to me, smartass.”

“...yeah.”

There was a lot of shuffling around, and Dandrane tossed him a tissue to clean himself up with, but by the time they’d snuck under the covers and the curtains closed themselves with a wave of the professor’s hand, Peeves felt rather strange. He knew he was smiling, and he couldn’t stop for the life of him, but he felt like he was craving something and he didn’t know what.

“I roll over in my sleep, so if you feel a crushing sensation on your ribs, that’s just me,” she said, sending the used condom and tissues into the trash can.

“Good thing I don’t breathe, then, eh?”

“Hey, I’ve had strong guys complain before. I’m just telling you,” she kissed him gently, _sweetly_ even, and settled down into the pillow with a rather cheeky grin, lying on her side away from him. “‘Night, Peeves.”

It took him a minute of watching her before he realized what he wanted. He curled an arm around her middle, and felt her warmth seep into him, and scooted closer until he was pressed completely against her back.

“You okay back there?”

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed. It would take awhile for him to actually fall asleep - if he even could right now - but Peeves didn’t want to stop touching her.

It was as close as he could get, but Dandrane could never be close enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Y’know, I always forget that the winter holidays take a lot out of me. I hope this makes up for the wait! (It should, it’s not everyday you get to witness Hogwarts’ poltergeist losing his virginity. (*＾∀ﾟ)ъ ) I don’t think I’ll have the next chapter out by Valentine’s, much to my own disappointment. A combination of work, every-day Adulting, and my other hobbies take up more time than I’m used to... But I’m hoping I can write another chapter from the ground up for February or early-March anyway! Jaspers don’t give up, so why should I?! Oh, and if you haven't subscribed/bookmarked this story, please do - it's easier to know when I've updated! I try to put notes on my profile page, but I don't always do that...
> 
> Fun fact, Peeves’ idea about tagging along with Danny was my very-early draft of what was going to happen at this point in the story. It’s practically customary to have a Yule Ball be a part of an HP fic, no matter if made sense to or not, so Slughorn’s party was originally a play on that trope. I just couldn’t figure out what to have Danny and Peeves do in there. Then when I realized it’d be stupid to have them seen together for that long due to Peeves’ nature (and that there’s literally no practical reason for Danny to have brought a nice dress with her), I came up with this idea. Still, the magic of Yule struck two couples here tonight… I’d say I played the trope well enough. (˵¯͒v¯͒˵) 
> 
> The Romanian accent is tricky to write, but the best reference I found was to replace certain sounds; “w” is replaced with “eu”, and “f” and “th” sounds are replaced with a strong “z”. Also, does anyone else think it’s weird that there’s apparently wizard musicians, but no mention of using magic to play instruments? You could have a literal one-man band! (Also, why were the Weird Sisters called that if there was no mention of women in the band in either the books or the films? Yeah, I know, it’s a Macbeth reference, but why not make a few of them women? It doesn’t make any sense...) 
> 
> Speaking of music, The Screaming Doxies is a fictional punk band of my own creation, comprised entirely out of witches. I figured the magic-punk scene would start around the same time as the originals (the 70’s) but keep going into the late 80’s, despite New Wave and Heavy Metal bands stealing the spotlights at the time. Danny saw them play in a club in her teens and, even if they were short-lived, ended up being a big fan. I guarantee she has bootleg tapes of their shows as well as both albums they managed to put out. I think there’d be some magical bands that clearly ripped off popular muggle ones and made it into the HP-world mainstream, much to the dislike of muggleborns and the half-bloods that were well-versed with muggle pop culture. I guarantee there’s a magical ripoff band of The Damned, and I guarantee Danny has actively thrown things at them. She’s probably banned from that club…
> 
> Geez, this chapter shows how much I don’t like Ilvermorney. JKR doesn’t seem to understand American education well, so I decided to make my own version of magic schools here. I based the private schools more off our colleges, where you can commute or live in the dorms, and of course they’re hideously expensive to attend without scholarships or state residency, and they have requirements for what kind of students they accept. Also also, American magic education runs from age 10 to 18, giving kids a full 8 years of school. If you haven’t performed magic by your tenth birthday, you’re not powerful enough to be considered a real magic-user; however, there are late bloomers who don’t get anything until they pass puberty, so there’s a few adult education centers.
> 
> Last thing: if you want (or need) me to tag anything for this chapter at the beginning, please leave a note about it! I didn't know if there was anything in particular, aside from maybe "Fingering" - i didn't add it since it can be considered under the Hand Jobs tag. AND THANKS YOU ALL OF YOU WHO LEFT KUDOS AND COMMENTS SO FAR, AND THOSE WHO BOOKMARKED!!! I LOVE YOU GUYS!!! And new readers - please tell me what you think, too!! I really appreciate any words you give me, be it kind or criticizing! And I always reply to comments, because if you took the time to write to me, you bet I'll take time to thank you!! I'll see you guys next time! ☆⌒（●ゝω・）


	15. Three Little Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings necessary this time! ヽ(○´∀`)ﾉ♪ As always, I recommend bookmarking or subscribing to make sure you don't miss an update!

Peeves had expected something in his magic-fueled brain to wake him naturally. Like sensing Dandrane shifting in the bed or moving around the room. After all, he always woke up by himself before, usually at strange times, so surely he’d get disturbed by a small noise of some kind. He could always tell when someone was in the room with him when he was awake, after all.

Instead, he was awoken by someone shaking his shoulder and calling his name in a voice that was more worried than cheerful.

“Peeves? Come on, wake up - you can’t pass out on me like this!”

It was difficult to open his eyes, actually. He was so comfortable...the comfiest he’d ever been, probably. Dandrane’s bed was all warm and soft, and even though he missed the feeling of her waist under his arms, he really didn’t want to move.

By the time he finally found the will to wake up, Dandrane had left the room and returned with a glass of water in her hands, posed to toss it at him.

“Finally! I tried waking you like, every _ten minutes_ since I got up!” The glass zoomed back towards the bathroom with a flick of her wrist, and he heard the glass rattle as it landed on the sink’s short edge. “Do you _always_ enter a coma when you sleep? I don’t think I saw your eyes move _once_.”

“Top o’ the mornin’ to you, too,” Peeves grumbled, sitting up and instantly feeling the urge to just fall right back into bed. He’d forgotten he was naked; the winter-morning air hitting his skin wasn’t remotely pleasant. It was a reminder that he hadn’t been dreaming last night, though...

Dandrane sighed, laying down with a dramatic flop at his feet. “You’re lucky. You get to stay all nice and cozy in there.”

Peeves blinked away the mental image of her naked form atop his lap. She was perfectly dressed in her usual garb, but hadn’t she worn that black suit with the pink pin-stripes the other day? She was super lazy about laundry, even though it was a free service - she had a pile of clothes sitting by the door to prove it. The only things she never threw in there were ties, but he definitely remembered that outfit because the pale pink tie she had on had been sitting on her chair in the other room for a while. “Didn’t leave all that in your little _mess mountain_ , did you?”

“...is that a British euphemism I don’t know about?”

He found himself snickering inbetween words: “I-I meant - I meant you wore that _three days_ ago!”

She blinked up at him. She was wearing mascara and eyeliner today, too. Why was she dressed up like she was going to teach? “I did? I thought it’d just fallen off the hanger in the wardrobe. I guess I put it back...” She trailed off, but she turned her piercing gaze from the wardrobe back to him, a know-it-all gleam in her eye and a smile at the corner of her lips. “You even remember what I wear. I knew I liked you.”

Was it weird that he remembered it? He didn’t think he could forget her flashy wardrobe. He’d never seen a teacher wear so many muggle clothes before he met her. “What, you _doubted_ you liked me?”

Dandrane chortled. “I guess I could _prove_ how much I like you.”

“Wouldn’t say no,” Peeves grinned down at her.

“Pfft - too _bad_ , hot-shot. I’ve got two minutes until I have to join the rest of the going-home club.” She sat up and rolled the shoulder she’d been laying on. “If you wanted another round you should’ve woken up earlier.”

Peeves huffed, mumbled that he couldn’t help it, and let his eyes wander to the pile of red at the foot of the covers. She’d brought his clothes for him. And _folded_ them, no less.

“Hat and shoes are still in the office,” she said casually as he started to pull on his trousers. “You know, I can’t help but look at those shoes and think of Sherlock Holmes and his slipper filled with tobacco.”

“What kind of name is _Sherlock Holmes_ ?” Peeves asked with a wince at the very sound of it. It sounded fanciful, like someone decided to mush together old surnames. “Must’ve been a real nutter t’ go by _that_.”

She turned, wide-eyed, and gaped at him like he had said he was from the moon. “You’ve _never heard_ of Sherlock Holmes? You’ve heard the expression ‘no shit, Sherlock’ before, though, right?”

“Didn’t know what it _referenced_ , ‘s all.”

Her eyes hardened - he’d seen that look before. The ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ sort of look students had when encountering him in-between classes. “Do you guys have _any_ muggle literature in that huge-ass library? I mean, Conan Doyle is only one of the _most famous writers of the U.K._ You heard of _Shakespeare_ at least, right?”

Peeves snorted with a smirk. “Couldn’t go anywhere without hearing of the bloke for _years_ .” He paused in buttoning his vest, a memory of a stage collapsing in the Great Hall springing to mind. It was long before he’d been banned, he remembered hovering at the back next to Friar Glaedwine, who was supposed to keep an eye on him… That’d been rather fun. “We did _Macbeth_ once.”

“Wow, that’s a surprise. Minerva told me the theater department was dissolved after a fire broke out during a duel between actors several decades ago - it wasn’t _Macbeth_ then, was it?”

Peeves snickered, remembering the scrambled chaos of the audience as two former-lovers dueled frantically on stage, causing fires and ending the plays for good. “No, _that_ little incident was over a hundred years ago. Macbeth was a hundred years _before_ that”

“There’s a disturbing trend here…” Dandrane muttered to herself.

“Hmm?” Peeves instantly perked up at the word ‘disturbing’.

“Nothing. Just thinking aloud.” The witch waited a beat and turned back to him, eyeing him curiously. “Where did you get that outfit, anyway? I’ve only ever seen kids wear normal clothes when they’ve got time off, but half of them still wear robes like it’s the medieval era… I’d swear your suits were _tailored_.”

Peeves felt his heart start to hammer as she moved closer, her icy blues slowly trailing over him with a more heady look. _Appreciative_ , that’s what it was… She ran her fingers over his arm, gripping slightly like she was examining him, and he was seized with the mental image of her pinning him to the mattress. The come-hither look in her eyes was certainly helping.

“I mean, all my years of thrift shopping… How _did_ you manage to get this?” She said with a deep chuckle, putting her hands on either side of him as if he were trying to escape.

“I’m not telling,” Peeves teased, shifting a little. “Got to have _some_ secrets of my own.”

“You’re lucky you look so good in it, or I’d take it off you and steal it myself,” Dandrane purred before leaning down to kiss him. It was warm and soft, and in the name of magic, he felt like he’d melt into her or something when she kissed him. He was more than happy to fall back into the pillows and pull her down with him, his hands sinking through her shirts so he could caress the skin of her back and feel the prickly warmth that came with it. Even the material of her clothes felt good… He wouldn’t say no to having sex like this.

The bell rang in the distance, and Dandrane seemed to force herself up and away from him, and he reluctantly followed suit. “That’s my cue, I guess. Better put the old teacher-face back on, huh?” She said with a somewhat strained smile as Peeves pulled on his overcoat.

“You mean you don’t act like this with _everybody_?” he joked.

“Yeah, well, it’s just usually more serious looking, but it’s not the serious-business face; my teaching-face will actually allow smiles half the time,” she said with a hint of sarcasm as she stood to slung her purse over her shoulder. The train always left after breakfast, so he wasn’t surprised when she grabbed the smaller suitcase - had she put it in one of her trunks before? - sitting innocently by the pile of clothes, too. “Are you coming down with me?”

“What, did y'think I’d do the walk of shame _alone_?”

That made her laugh, at least.

He floated invisibly alongside her all the way to the Great Hall, his arm looped through hers, not wanting to let go and lose the warm, comforting feeling of having her close to him. He didn’t necessarily have to touch her to feel it, but it was a nice bonus.

“Well, I’ll be back in six days, I guess,” she muttered with a subdued smile as they lingered outside of the ground floor’s secret passage. “See you when I get back.”

Peeves couldn’t help the heat that rushed to his face when she kissed him suddenly. It was quick, but the feeling her mouth on his and her fingers on his chin seemed to mean more than just a short goodbye.

Maybe he was just feeling impressed at her finding his lips while he was still invisible. Was she just that good, or had she memorized him already?

An hour later, Peeves watched her go down to the train with the mass of students, keeping his eyes on her until the crowd was no longer visible through the fifth-floor window.

The next several days were spent with him roaming about the castle during the day, finding things that were left behind to place in inconvenient places for their owner’s to discover later, moving furniture slightly around rooms to annoy it’s usual occupants, breaking Christmas baubles, sneaking swears and dirty rhymes into the singing armors’ carols, occasionally stumbling on wee couples under what remained of the castle’s mistletoe, and messing up the order of library books for his little ongoing war with Madam Pince’s obsessive need to keep them alphabetical. At night, however, he repeatedly found himself returning to Dandrane’s office. No one was really around to stop him or tell him to quiet down, so he amused himself by listening to her records at a high volume and leafing through a few of the books on her shelf. Making fun of some of her silly novella was a great way to pass time, but on several occasions he not only found himself drawn into the stories, but felt like he wanted to turn to Dandrane and tell her one of the jokes he thought up for them. She was _gone_ , though, so the feeling just lingered unpleasantly for a while.

At first, he’d sit in her desk chair or hover around it and read by the oil-lamp she kept there. Then he tried to sit on the couch he’d nicked for her, but he couldn’t sit there without thinking about how it felt to sit next to her on it, and it was a very unpleasant reminder that she wouldn’t be back. It was also just difficult to read over there; it appeared that the house elves didn’t come to her rooms (or maybe they did, and he just conveniently missed them every day), as the fireplace was never lit.

Actually, it was becoming rather hard _not_ to think about Dandrane, regardless of whether or not he was in her rooms. Outside of them something always popped up in his head or field of vision that reminded him of her, whether it was a color combination or something he thought she might like the look of or the intrusive memory of how she tasted and felt just popping in whenever his brain felt like. Inside of her office he could feel bits of her magic and smell her perfume or hairspray lingering around in spots, and he’d _instantly_ think of her, clothed or not. It wasn’t until he plopped himself on her bed Christmas night that he realized why it all kept happening - he _missed_ her. It’d been so long since the last time he missed _anybody_ that he’d actually forgotten what it was even remotely like.

It wasn’t long after that realization that Peeves found himself entangled in her sheets, half listening to a song about some girl named Sheena and half just laying there and missing Dandrane, physically and mentally.

Peeves was not one to get lonely. It was bizarre and uncomfortable and he _hated_ it. Something in his torso kept gently twisting around whenever the thought about the pink-haired witch returning, too, and he didn’t have any idea what the feeling was, so that made things _more_ uncomfortable.

The only thing he could think of was some form of ‘relief’.

It was the only thing that made sense to the poltergeist, anyway.

*~*~*~*~*

When Dandrane had watched the Hogwarts Express pull out of the station to embark to London, Hogsmeade had looked rather picturesque, with it’s white rooftops and dangling icicles and Christmas decorations on every window and door. It looked like something out of one of those “Christmas Village” sets that were always perfectly displayed on hallway tables at Bayard, and she had felt a pang of nostalgia.

Now that she stood in the middle of a snowless soaked-to-the-bone village with one hand clutching her suitcase and the other her pet’s large birdcage, she felt like spring should hurry it’s ass up.

She had more than enough of cold weather. Her apartment in Maine was freezing, a lot of stores were closed, and even the Chinese restaurant down the street was empty; even Lonny’s house, which was usually warm and bright with it’s wallpaper of movie posters and eclectic-but-comfy furniture, had heating problems. Beatrice’s house in Manitoba was covered in snow, as was Jillian’s in Vancouver, and Sivoy’s in northern Alberta; the frozen landscapes reminded her of why she didn’t live in the northern country.  

Her parent’s house naturally hadn’t seen any sign of winter weather, and while that was a humongous relief after seeing and feeling nothing but snow and ice everywhere else she went, she had to endure repeating the same answers to questions she had gotten up north and back east, as well as the usual “have you met someone yet” and “are you ever going back to your natural color” and “are you eating properly” talk from her mother, which put a bit of a damper on the whole experience. (On the plus side, Sabrina seemed happy to be in a warmer climate again, even if it was only for two days - Dandrane knew the vulture didn’t really like having to wear the special little hood every time she flew outdoors in winter.)

Christmas came and went in the blink of an eye and Boxing Day was crowded to hell and back no matter what state she tried to shop in. Her vacation had been a hectic mess, and her throat was still a little sore from all the talking she did both in person and over phones, and now that she remembered why she didn’t like talking to a few of her old co-workers more than twice a year - good _God_ could some of them prattle on - she thought that she’d be overjoyed to go back to the hill-top castle. The moment she had stepped off the Knight Bus and into the village, though, the isolated feeling that came from having so few places to go and people to see snuck back up on her alongside the cold Scottish wind. It gave her an urge to just whip up a bonfire in the middle of the town to show mother nature that she could fight it.

Sabrina shifted in her magically-heated cage, ruffling her feathers as they trudged through the soggy street. The sight of it must’ve gotten the same reaction out of her, too.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she cooed gently. “The castle’s not that far, and soon you’ll be all warm and cozy and away from this frozen hellscape of tinsel. You’ll be able to go back and visit your little friends in the owlery all you want.”

Dandrane wasn’t fond of owls at all - mostly due to bad luck with mail in the few times she was forced to use one rather than the standard crow or carrier pigeon - but Sabrina seemed to get along really well with them. The school owls seemed cleverer than most, in the witch’s opinion, and occasionally would bring the vulture decaying rodents they found, even if she wasn’t nested in the owlery with them. Dandrane liked to think her pet had become a sort of boss among them, but the reality was the birds just happened to like snuggling into the larger bird’s feathers, and Sabrina often ate the dead animals the other owls either couldn’t fit in their beaks or were too spoiled to consider eating.

It had been a gloomy early morning across the sea, but now with the noon-day sun breaking through a few spots in the clouds, it was a _little_ cheerier. Having a proper cup of coffee would’ve made it better.

“Fuck this, I’m sick of walking,” Dandrane grumbled at the edge of the village. The castle gates weren’t far, but the glimpse of the school reminded her of just how far away it was from the tiny town. The carriages wouldn’t be able to give her a ride today, as the Thestrals were out of commission for the season.

Thankfully, the witch had thought to bring a hoverboard back with her this time.

_Thank God for movies_ , she thought to herself, setting the board down and watching it rise several inches above the cobblestone street. _Where would we be without Steven Spielberg's influence?_

She snapped her purse close with one hand and picked up her luggage for the third time that day. “You ready, honey?” She asked the bird in her arms as they stepped onto the thick wheel-less skateboard. Sabrina gave the witch a sort of look - she was always worried about being stuck in the cage if they fell over. “It’ll be okay, if you fall the door opens automatically, you know that. Here we go!”

With a kick on the ground, they were off - not as nearly as fast as a broom, but at a nice, steady pace that was much faster and comfier than walking through the patches of mud and ice still stuck on the path.

“You’d think they’d be able to clean this up every morning so people could get up this hill.”

Sabrina gave a low squawk-like hiss.

“Yeah, they really aren’t the most forward-thinking bunch, are they? I mean, I don’t dislike them or anything - well, except Filch and Platts, but _you_ know that - but how come they all act like they’re stuck in another era sometimes? I mean, tech-wise, I guess they _are_ \- the magic around this place _is_ pretty dense. But how come they haven’t tried to create magical telephones or something so they wouldn’t have to write letters all the time? Or even some kind of instant-messaging paper? I know we’re working on that back home. _You_ heard Barbara and Sven hinting at it the other day. How come _these_ guys are so behind?”

Sabrina shuffled like she was shrugging; her dark brown eyes were full of understanding, as they often seemed to be.

“Yeah, I know, I should probably cut these guys some slack now and then. But it really bothers me that they act like those old-family types back home; the only thing that seems to have changed is the _accents_. I mean, for the place that overthrew Voldemort, it’s really detached from the other half of the world...”

Getting to the school gate was a short trip. It would normally by a nasty uphill climb from there, with the castle looming over everything next to the Black Lake.

Dandrane tilted her feet back, slowing down the hoverboard until it halted a foot away from the gate. She pulled her wand out from her coat pocket - a little difficult when she couldn’t feel it through her gloves - and touched the tip to the hefty lock. “Professor Dandrane Flemming.”

The gates seemed to glow slightly as they opened, and instantly the pink-haired witch felt the rush of wards going over her. Once her arms were full she kicked off several times to get the board going, and once they were zooming towards the castle and remaining level, Dandrane looked up at it.

She had to admit, it always did look impressive. The restorations were obvious and the various extensions put in hundreds of years ago made it look rather eclectic, but with the sturdy base structure it was nothing to snark at. In fact, it was worthy of a picture…

She thought about pulling out her disposable camera and taking a snap, but the chilling cold and wet landscape stopped her. She’d wait until the drive was walkable, at least - and maybe get Peeves to take a picture of her in front of it. _That’d be one to send to Lonny_ , she grinned. _Maybe Dad, too - he certainly grilled me on what the decor was like inside. I should send him some, too, actually… I suppose I could make copies, it’s not like film solution is expensive or anything…_

Of course, what she really looked forward to was taking pictures of Peeves. She wanted to see if he could even appear in photos in the first place, and then she wanted to capture him in as many ways as she could. She had less than six months to live it up with him until they had to part ways, potentially for good, and she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t at least have one good picture of him. No surprise that he was the one boyfriend in years whose picture she’d _keep_ after they…

Well, it was best not to think of that right now.

It had only been a few days, but she was surprised at how much she missed him. She daydreamed a couple times about what he would’ve done on the train or at her place, and she found herself wishing she could’ve woken up next to him on Christmas. She didn’t mind waking up to three of her father’s foster cats, but it really wasn’t the same.

The castle windows were gleaming in the light reflected off the lake - she could see her office window, actually, the one that looked out over the lake at an angle… And there was no mistaking the blue face floating in front of it, practically pressed against the window. She blinked, and he was gone in an instant.

He was either embarrassed or excited. Both images were the sort of cute that made her grin to herself. _Oh man, when I get the chance…_

One of the castle’s doors opened itself for her as she stepped off the hoverboard, and she hadn’t even taken two steps inside when Peeves practically tackled her into a sideways embrace.

Sabrina hissed irritably as her cage was rattled. “I’m happy to see you too, babe,” Dandrane said to the little man’s head currently nuzzling against her upper-arm, “but at least let me put Sabrina down.”

He pulled away with a roll of his eyes and his usual grin. “ _Fine_ ,” he whined with the same tone as an annoyed teenager. “It’s not like I -” He paused, his eyes catching sight of the hoverboard still floating a foot above the floor. “What is _that_?”

Sabrina’s cage was gently set on the floor, and the vulture stretched out her wings as Dandrane readjusted her sunglasses. “Hoverboard. Neat, huh?”

Peeves’ eyes were starting to glitter. “Yes, _very_ ,” he said in a mischievous tone. “Can I borrow it?”

“No way, I _just_ brought that from home! I’m not letting you break it.”

“I won’t _break_ it!” He said, sounding rather offended. “I just want to put it to good use! Really, _Phlegmy_ , I thought you knew me better than _that_.”

The way he said the nickname was definitely more irritated than usual. Why was he upset over a little bit of truth? “ _Really_ ?” She asked sardonically, “Because I figure ‘good use’ means you’ll borrow it, use as part of a joke, and return it to me broken because the person you used it on didn’t give two shits about where it came from. I know _you_ won’t break it on contact.”

Peeves gave a defiant sort of _hmph_ and crossed his arms. “What’s with the getup, anyway? Your coat says ‘gentry’ but the rest of you says ‘newbie mountaineer’.”  

“Gentry?” Dandrane looked down at her long white coat. It was her winter coat of choice, since the length covered most of her legs and thick wool prevented snow from seeping through her clothes. It _did_ sort of clash with her boots; they were meant for long walks and climbing on rocks, after all, and the worn plaid shoelaces and scuffs on the black leather looked funny when compared to the shiny gold-painted coat buttons.

“ _High class_ sort of thing,” he explained with a wave.

“Oh yeah? What’s my _scarf_ say, then?”

His black eyes darted towards her neck and back to her face in a second. “You’ve got decent taste in color,” he said with a slight grin. Figured he’d like _that_ ; it was almost the same shade of orange as his bow-tie. Still, it was a compliment, which meant he wasn’t _too_ upset. “But just looking at your _hair_ says that. Surprised you’re not wearing a hat.”

“It kept trying to fly away. Messes up my spikes, anyway,” Dandrane waved her wand over her suitcase, causing it to float in the air, and looked around - the castle felt so _deserted_ . Everyone was probably up in their common rooms or bedrooms, waiting for lunch to start. It would still be best to keep a quieter tone. “I _am_ going for a little hike, though, if you want to come with. I hear there’s a haunted house with our names on it.”

Peeves blinked. “What, _now?_ ”

“Might as well. I’m dressed, it’s the middle of the day, and you’re the only person that knows I popped in. I just need to drop this stuff off.” The witch took a moment to open Sabrina’s cage, where the vulture had stretched herself to maximum capacity in order to get across the idea she wanted out. “There you go, sweetie. I’ll take your cage up, okay?”

Sabrina gave her an affectionate glance and a peculiar hiss, and flew off towards the Owlery. The witch was used to hearing the weird calls of her pet bird, but Peeves was not - he had winced at the noise and watched the bird fly up the staircase with a funny look.

Dandrane gestured to the empty cage so it, too, would float behind her as they walked up the grand staircase. “Don’t worry, that just means she’s going to go feed. I bet her little owl groupies have saved some rats for her.”

“You’re _sure_ you want to go the Shack right now?” He asked quietly, excitement lacing every word.

Dandrane stopped on the third stair. She hated the thought of having to be out in the cold again, but now really was the best time. And it wasn’t like she could avoid the white glare coming in through the windows in her office or bedroom. “Yeah. Why?”

“Give those to me,” he said, pointing towards the luggage hovering at their backs, “and we’ll get there _faster_.”

He had a point, but no matter what she felt for him, he was still the guy that tended to break glasses at a whim and peek into her trunks whenever he felt like it. “Alright, you can have three minutes, but no _opening_ anything. And if I come back and find the place worse than I left it, I’m gluing your mouth shut.” She was half-joking, really. She didn’t really care if he messed around in her room.

Peeves giggled, the light in his eyes brightening in the way she always found charming. It was the face she had missed seeing the most, and the one that amplified her desire to just pull him forward and kiss him. “I don’t know _where_ you get such ideas about me,” he said in a very dishonest voice before zooming away, both arms clutching the suitcase and the bird cage like it was nothing.

Dandrane leaned against the stone wall by the front doors to wait for him, and feeling the cold stone against the back of her head reminded her that if Peeves went outside the way he was, he would be fairly frozen.

_Hope he doesn’t mind the feminine cut_ , she thought as she ran her wand over herself, an exact replica of the coat slowly appearing by her side in midair.

*~*~*~*~*

After ten minutes or so of gliding over muck and going over a single barbed wire fence atop a somewhat steep hill, all while Peeves (who had decided it was best to be invisible for the first half the journey) regaled her with talk of what happened while she was gone, the pair stood before the most famous haunted house in all of the United Kingdom.

The Shrieking Shack was _really_ overhyped.

Not only was it so quiet you could hear a bird rustle it’s feathers, but it wasn’t even a _shack_ . It was more of a run-down Victorian house that only somewhat resembled the artist’s rendering found in books of famous haunted locations. The windows were completely dark, the outer boards were rotting, the paint was peeled and chipped, and the roof looked like it might collapse in on itself if a finch decided to touch it. The door, too, was dark and had chipped spots, but curiously it had no signs of attempted intrusion; the doorknob was still in place, there were no dents in the wood, and there wasn’t so much as a sliver of a gap beneath the door. The _sight_ of it was sort of eerie, but Dandrane was used to that kind of thing through her own ghost hunting experiences and watching horror movies - a true ‘haunted’ location would feel off from the moment you stepped within it’s lot. This one just felt like someone had abandoned a house because they couldn’t keep up the payments.

Dandrane took a picture with her disposable camera anyway, trying to get the whole front of the house. “Man, what a dump.”

“I expected more broken windows and holes in the walls,” Peeves commented with his usual grin as he surveyed the place. It was funny, with his light blue skin and the shrunk copy of her coat over his shoulders, he could blend in with the hillside fairly well. “Guess ghosts here know how to keep up a place, eh?”

“What, there aren’t _any_ broken windows?”Dandrane rushed look at the left side of the house, the muck squishing under her boots - all the glass in the window panes were solid, and all of them appeared to have curtains of some kind drawn over them. There wasn’t so much as a hairline fracture on any pane. She snapped another picture anyway. “What about the other side of the house?”

Peeves gave her a pointed look - probably because she forgot to really _ask_ and say ‘please’ - but he swooped far enough away to examine the other side anyway. “Nope!”

“Let’s look at the back,” she half-shouted. It was so quiet they didn’t really have to yell to hear each other at a distance.

Dandrane had to jog to keep up at his pace from the other side. Just like the rest of the house, the back windows were all perfectly fine. The sills were rotting, apparently, and a few had chunks of wood missing, but it was like the glass had been charmed against bad weather. It wasn’t unusual for magical housing, but surely a house as old and decrepit as this one should’ve had those charms faded immensely by now. Unless…

Dandrane pulled out her wand and looked at the short staircase leading to the back door. A small kick told her it was still solid. “Weird.”

“What is?”

“These stairs should be pretty soft by now. They haven’t had any sealant applied before - look, you can see where the all the moss is growing…”

“ _So?_ It’s probably enchanted.”

“But those kind of charms _prevent_ that kind of stuff from growing on it.” The witch tested the first step. It took her weight like it was made of bricks. “How old is this house?”

“Why are you asking _me_?”

“You can guess if you want. Guesstimate.”

Peeves rolled his eyes, but seemed to study the house for a moment anyway. “Hundred. Hundred and fifty, maybe.”

“I’d say so, too. I’ve seen a lot of restored houses - ones that were abandoned or uncared for for a couple decades. They never look this good.”

“ _Enchanted_ , Danny. What part of ‘you’re in a completely magical village’ don’t you get?”

“That’s my _point_ ,” Danny grumbled, gesturing to the house, “This place should’ve been sealed against this stuff already! But look at it, it’s seemingly falling apart, but this fucking staircase is _fine_!”

“ _Fine_ , don’t need to blow a _gasket_...”

“And you know, something else really bothers me.”

“What?” Peeves said flatly, crossing his arms.

“This place has been haunted since at _least_ the early seventies, but not _a single kid_ has tried to break in? You’d think someone would try to blast a hole in the wall or something.”

“It’d make an awful lot of noise, Danny,” the poltergeist said almost patronizingly.

Dandrane rolled her eyes. “Silencing spells, Peeves. They’re older than the house is.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, and then cast a slightly doubtful look at the house. “Good point.”

The witch tried the doorknob - it was stuck so tight it didn’t even budge. _No point in trying to unlock it. Let’s see if there’s something obstructing it._ She made a large circle with her wand arm. “ _Fenestra visum_.”

Nothing happened. There wasn’t even a waver in the air.

“What was _that_?”

“I call it the Porthole Spell - we’re supposed to be able to see inside. Guess it’s got more charms on it than I thought… _Specto praesidium_ ,” the witch said firmly with a slow wave of her wand.

There was an immediate reaction - runes glowed as if written on the house in shimmering ink.

Peeves floated next to her, eyes wide and gaping at the ancient symbols on the door and parts of the house’s exterior. “What…?”

Had he never seen the charm before? Or did he just not know what the runes meant? “Well, that cluster means the outside is protected from weather damage - so no water leaks, at least,” she said, pointing to a blocky set of runes, “and that set over there means vermin can’t live in it - so even if termites or raccoons tried to enter, they’d be ejected from the property… This one’s for a complete preservation charm, that’s weird…”

Peeves’ eyes glittered. He was staring at her like she’d given him a lavish present.

“What’s the stare for?”

“Nothing, I’m just _impressed_ , ‘s all,” Peeves said with a grin. “Our _Defense_ witchy’s really something else, isn’t she?” He said fondly, making her brain feel fuzzy and heat rise to her cheeks.

“But you guys have _Ancient Runes_ classes - other people could probably read these, too.”

“‘S not the _point_ \- I didn’t even know it was _possible_ to see wards written out.”

“Wow, I’d hate to meet your guy’s standard aurors. Must be shitty detectives…” Dandrane smirked, feeling the warmth in her face grow hotter. _I didn’t expect to get complimented for something like this today, but I’ll take it._

“So what’d those mean, then?” Peeves pointed to the group of symbols written by the door pane.

“Pretty sure one half means ‘sight’, but I don’t know what the other half one is...” Dandrane dug around in her pocket and pulled out a small red book. “Let’s see…”

The poltergeist flipped himself so he could read the cover. “The Pocket Guide to Runes?”

“Hey, I can’t be expected to remember each and every rune. A lot of aurors have these.” She ran her gloved finger down the page of Latin-based charms. Hmm, _another kind of obstruction, huh? And combined with that…_ “The spell used for that set prevents us from being able to look inside.” Dandrane shut the book with a snap and turned to her floating companion with a grin of her own. “Good news, though - none of these prevent us from breaking in.”

There was the definite gleam of excitement on his face, combined with a heady look. “Danny, you always know just what to say. I think I might swoon if you keep this up.” She should’ve figured as much, with his love of destruction. “So how do you figure we break in, then?”

“Well, first we need to find the wall studs… Do you have a marker or something on you?”

“Always,” he said with a cheeky smirk.

Finding the studs with her wand was easy, and thanks to Peeves always carrying some sort of inky writing tool, drawing a hole to aim at was done. A small noise-preventing barrier was put up (no good having the locals rush to see what was going on) and Dandrane moved a good two yards away.

“So what’s the plan, Danny? Blast our way through?”

“Nah, it’s warded against that. But it’s not warded against _sledgehammers_.”

Seeing Peeves’ ecstatic face was completely worth having to transform sticks into the hefty tools and force them to fly in the air. She hated having to keep them in the air for too long, though, as the weight made it difficult to control. After the third swing, the hammers had made a nice big dent in the wood, but as Dandrane thought, the house’s wards made it damn sturdy against force. At least it didn’t have any kind of signaling spell on it, so they were still safe from prying eyes.

Then again, she was using _human_ magic…

“Hey Peeves, do you wanna take a whack at this?”

He regarded her hand a little warily. “What...swing your wand around?”

“No, silly - swing the _hammer_. You can lift a whole bunch of chairs at once, I think you could lift it with no problem. I’ll just put the second one down.”

Peeves had a strange look on his face as he watched one of the hammers lay itself down on the ground. “You really trust me with that thing?”

“Of course I do, babe. Why, are you tempted to bash my head in or something?”

“You’d kill me before I could try,” he smiled affectionately, “not that I _would_ . I can’t even _pretend_ to think of it.”

“I’d definitely hope so.”

Peeves lifted the makeshift tool with ease, and took a gentle practice swing in the air like he was holding a baseball bat. “Pfft, _easy_.”

He screwed up his face in concentration, gripped the handle firmly, and swung hard at the center of the rectangle.

Without the sound barrier in place, Dandrane was sure there would’ve been a mighty crash as the wood split on contact, shattering into splinters and showering dust and wood chunks inside what looked like the kitchen. It made a slightly taller hole than Dandrane had intended - she would not longer have to crawl inside.

Peeves whirled around, a proud grin spreading on his blue face as he leaned the sledgehammer against his shoulder. “Well _that_ was fun! Big enough for you, Danny?”

“Yeah...” the witch replied, hearing the awe in her voice. She knew he was strong, but... _damn_. It was worth getting a picture of, so she reeled back the plastic crank and took  another shot, making sure Peeves was in it; she swore his grin widened when she put the camera up to her eyes. “How much power did you put into that?”

“Hmm… Dunno. Why? You _impressed_ ?” The poltergeist leered as she stowed the camera back in her pocket, and Dandrane found herself both annoyed and turned on. All that power in such a small body… A _soft_ body, no less, that had clung to her and pressed against her like he couldn’t bear to stop...

“Cool your jets, hot-shot,” she said, talking to both Peeves and herself, “It might’ve been more about your type of magic than your strength.” With a wave of her wand, the sledgehammers transformed back into thin broken sticks. Peeves hurled them away, watching them smack into a tree before hitting the ground as Dandrane peeped into the hole. Without it, it would’ve been incredibly dark - all the windows were boarded up from the inside, like reverse shutters. “But yeah, I’m still impressed. It’s a good thing there aren’t any pipes on this side - we could’ve been hit with frozen water...”

“I thought we were going to go _in_ ,” Peeves teased.

“First rule of going inside abandoned buildings, Peeves - always check your surroundings.”

It didn’t take much to climb inside. The sunlight sneaking through the gaps in the window planks made things bright enough that Dandrane didn’t have to use _lumos,_ let alone turn on the camera’s flash. The kitchen was covered in dust and bits of wood, and there was a very broken table and set of chairs near what at one time must have been a range. It was horribly bent out of shape and appeared blackened by years of wear and tear, but Dandrane could see the separate doors for the oven and firewood. There was a big roundish dent in one side of the range, like something had rammed into it.

The witch blew aside some of the dust on the door, trying to see if a manufacturer's name was still there - nothing. It’d been ironed flat.

“Woah, someone had a _party_!” Peeves joked, hovering over the table.

“Yeah, a rowdy one. I think someone busted their head on this stove.”

“Ramming into stoves, breaking doors off fridges, _and_ throwing tables? Such a _wild_ bunch!” Peeves beamed like he couldn’t have done a better job himself.

He was right though, the table had been thrown, judging by the angle it’s halves were sitting at as they leaned against the wall. She’d seen such a thing twice before; once after encountering a young acromantula after receiving a tip-off from the neighborhood watch committee, and once during a shadowed case of a magic-on-muggle break-in. _I hope it’s not another one of those fucking spiders. I’d take stupid magic-users over those know-it-all eight-legged freaks any day._

“Oooh, look, Danny!” Peeves picked up one of the ancient chairs and turned its front left leg towards her. “Someone’s _chewed_ this one!”

“Woah, _what_ ?” There _were_ bite marks - several of them, all down the top half of the unbroken leg. The other three legs were missing, all broken off at different points, the wood softened by age, but at one point in time she was sure they had been all jagged. They definitely weren’t from a spider, at least. Dandrane cast a look at the pile of wood on the dirty tile - it would be ridiculous to try and piece them together, and she wouldn’t be able to tell which leg belonged to which chair, even if she tried to use a _reparo_ on it. It was still worth a picture. “You haven’t seen any other teeth marks, have you?”

Peeves tossed the chair into the pile, where it landed with a _thwack_. “Nope! Want to look?”

“That would be for the best. Those don’t look fresh, but if we find any that _are_ I suggest we leave rather than find out what caused it.”

“Fine by me!” Peeves began to look atop the high cupboards and over the few shelves, as if something could’ve lept up there. Well, it wasn’t bad to rule that out, honestly.

Dandrane went to take a snap of the almost-ancient fridge - empty with chipped paint, but not rusting. _That’s weird. Even with those weather-seals some humidity must’ve gotten inside the house, and if this had a decent chilling charm on it, it should have at least a_ speck _of rust with the old metal exposed like that…_

There didn’t seem to be a freezer in the same room, but that wasn’t unnatural. The cupboards were all bare, but there wasn’t even a hint of a cobweb. _Guess that vermin-protection spell’s pretty hardy._

Peeves yelped suddenly, and Dandrane turned with her wand out and at the ready.

“The door moved!” he said excitedly, pointing at the open pantry door. “You saw that, right?”

“Did you pass in front of it?”

“I reached for the knob!”

“It’s probably just an old proximity-thing. Disabled people have those to open doors automatically all the time. Is there anything in there?”

Peeves ducked his head in the dim little room, and pulled out a second later with a disgruntled face. “Not so much as a _tea tin_.”

“Are there any shelves?”

“Does it count if they’re all broken?”

“Well, the rest of this room doesn’t seem to have anything going for it. Shall we look elsewhere?”

The rest of the ground floor was similar, but a hell of a lot darker. What was once a living room had been reduced to a pile of torn cloth and great chunks of wood. The only bookshelf in the house - which surprisingly had two very dusty and shredded books, both of which were naturally unreadable - had been chewed and scratched upon by some mysterious being long ago in the otherwise empty study. There were a few unlabeled broken bottles, a few dirty sheets ridden with holes (that Dandrane guessed had once been for covering the now-demolished dining room chairs) and, upon closer inspection, a very scratched floor. It was like a parade of clawed animals had come through.

The strangest thing of all was that the front and back doors were shut tight. There wasn’t a single gap in them, and the front door didn’t even have a peep-hole, let alone a real lock. If it weren’t for the gaping hole in the back of the kitchen, it would be almost like they were sealed in.

“Sure hope the upstairs is better than this,” Dandrane said as she carefully ascended the worn, scratched steps; they creaked lightly with almost every step, but she didn’t think they were worn enough to fall through. The lower rails also had bite marks and chunks of wood torn away. Peeves was floating closely beside her with his arms folded. “It’s funny though, I haven’t heard so much as a _squeak_ around here, let alone a shriek.”

“...I don’t think anyone else is _here_ , Danny.”

She looked at him curiously - he seemed to be regarding the wall ahead intensely.

“ I _should_ feel someone else’s magic in this sort of place, but I _can’t._ I can tell when one of the Hogwarts’ ghosts are coming from a certain ways away if I try. There’s not even any _residue_.”

“I suspected as much when you didn’t point anything out when we walked in; kinda felt weird that no one came to herd us out after we kicked that chair in the living room, either. I guess this place really isn’t so much ‘The Shrieking Shack’ as it is ‘The Mystery House’... Or maybe ‘The Mystery Shack’ - that has sort of a nice ring to it.”

“Didn’t you come to see _ghosts_?” He asked, regarding her with a curious frown. “Why stay if they’re not here?”

“Yeah, but it’s the _Mystery House_ , now, Peeves,” she said, leaning against the railing. It was as sturdy as the porch had been. “Why is a weather-and-preservation warded house so decrepit looking on the outside? Why am I not falling through the floor or the railings right now? What made all the bite marks and broke all the furniture if nothing can get in? Why are the windows all boarded from the inside? Besides,” Dandrane smiled, “I get to hang out with my boyfriend in an empty house for however long I want. That spells a fun time to me.”

Peeves flushed, looking a little bewildered. “This is a _date_?”

“Well, I know it’s not the most romantic place around, but technically _anything_ we do can be considered a date. So, yes.”

The poltergeist stared for a moment, as if taking that entire concept in, and without another word he moved to grab her hand in his, sinking low enough that neither had to bend their arms much. The warming charm she had placed on the coat extended to his hands; she could feel it a little through her gloves. “Should’ve _told_ me...”

“What did you think we were doing, having a work outing?” She teased, squeezing his hand gently as they ascended the stairs.

“‘M _new_ at this, okay?” he mumbled with lilac-colored cheeks.

“I’m only teasing, babe. Feel anything unusual up here so far?”

“No. Just seeing more scratch marks.”

“There’s more bite marks on the rails,” Dandrane pointed with her free hand; there were much fewer up there than down below.

“You’d think a pack of _dogs_ came through here,” Peeves remarked as he looked down the hall, “but they didn’t even knock anything off the walls!”

Dandrane shot her attention to the hallway walls. They were all bare, and had an ugly yellowing wallpaper that was peeling in places, but there wasn’t so much as a candle-holder on them, let alone a picture. It was the same for the stairway, which only had a tiny rusted chandelier dangling from the ceiling that looked like it had never held a candle in it’s life. “Peeves, have I ever told you that you’re brilliant?”

“Yes, but say it again, anyway,” he grinned over at her. “What did my _brilliance_ tell you _now_?”

“That we haven’t seen a single picture since we got in here. There’s not even a _mirror_. No one leaves their walls completely bare like this…”

“Oh…”

“You can see where there was something over there,” the witch said, gesturing to a square of slightly darker wallpaper, “but why take it down?”

“So they took the pictures but left all the _furniture_ down there?”

“Exactly. They still had full sets of furniture left behind, but they cleaned out their shelves and cabinets... I mean, I guess someone could’ve been chased out, and people raided the place for what they could carry before the place was closed off…”

“No, I think you’re onto something.” Peeves said seriously. “They could’ve shrunk the furniture, then, too…”

“Hm… Do you want to split up to search this floor for anything, or do you want to stay together?”

“What, leave you to wander without my brilliant spiritual guidance?” Peeves grinned. “Never.”

“That’s a terrible pun, babe,” Dandrane chuckled. “ _Spiritual_ guidance…”

“ _Thought_ you’d like it.”

The bathroom was bare, too - a mirror had hung on the wall once, but only darker, peeling wallpaper remained. None of the taps worked, but the ancient toilet - which had lost its pull chain somewhere - still stood, though it was drained of water. The window was once again covered by boards, the tile floor was scuffed, and like the cast iron tub (which Danny coveted for its lovely clawed feet, despite some scuffs) and the sink, it was all covered in dust. There wasn’t any sign of mold, soap scum, or rust. If the house was growing moss outside despite the preventative charms, shouldn’t mold grow inside, too? Shouldn’t there be red rings around the sink holes? Surely there would be something to indicate that a person had lived there before...

Unless the castor was just really shitty at magic. It was always a possibility.

The _real_ treat was the small bedroom next to it - it was like the other rooms, but it still had a mattress and torn bedclothes on the partially-chewed bed frame, and there were even dusty remains of stuffed toys left behind on it.

“Now _that’s_ weird. Why leave all this behind, but take everything _else_ personal?” Dandrane asked, peeking inside the empty dresser drawers. The dresser was also scratched and bitten by something, but the tooth marks varied more in size. “No kid leaves without their stuffed animal. I mean, to leave that behind is just plain _cruel_.”

“What, you’re feeling sad about _this_ thing?” Peeves said, holding up half of what must’ve been a bear at one point.

“Hey, I had a teddy bear, too. I would never throw it away or leave it behind somewhere… I actually gave him to Sabrina when I was older.”

“Blech!” Peeves stuck out his tongue, dropping the stuffed remains onto the dirty bed and unleashing a little cloud of dust. “So you won’t throw it away, but you’ll let it smell like _dead meat_?!”

“No, I cleaned it for her every week or so. She doesn’t eat near it, anyway. I think she’s taken your guy’s owls as substitutes for him, I’ve seen her snuggling some when she sleeps in the Owlery… You know, this whole thing’s empty, too. Why take clothes and pictures, but leave the bed made?”

“Maybe a ghostie wanted a decent nap,” Peeves suggested dryly. “Don’t know how they could live here for years… D’you think it’s why they left?”

“What, you think ghosts _were_ here at one point?”

“You weren’t around back then,” the poltergeist said with a reminiscent smile, “but I still remember hearing the noise from this place… I used to sneak out to the gate just to hear it - I’ll never forget it…” Even his eyes took on a misty quality. “It was like they were throwing _fits_ all the time, with the way they screamed.”

“I’m surprised you never went in here before and tried to party with them, then.”

His smile morphed into a disgruntled frown. “ _They_ wouldn’t _let_ me. Even _Dumbledore_ told me off once.”

“But you still managed to hear it every night?”

“It wasn’t like _that_ ,” he waved off, pretending to lean against something in mid-air, “it only happened once in awhile. It was a party house for them for a couple of years. Haven’t heard it since…” Peeves squinted as he counted on his fingers. “Dunno, ‘77 or ‘78? Something like that. Been quite a while, come to think of it. I wonder where they ran off to...”

“I asked around the bar when I first got here, and it seems the place didn’t start getting tourists until the early seventies, too…”

Peeves grinned at her. “Okay, smartie-pants, what do you think that _means_ then?”

“I don’t know yet. Come on.”

The master bedroom at the end of the hall also seemed partially furnished - the turn-of-the-century armoire was certainly bigger, but it had a gaping hole in one side and a weird pattern of small ones on the doors. The large bed was again dressed, but there were more scratches, chew marks, and dents on it than other one. The covers had fallen off - or been tossed off - and the bed-legs had been repaired at one point; the seams where they were broken off were obvious. _Someone clumsily repaired this with a wand. And some of these scratches are smaller… What on earth happened in here? Was a zoo let loose or something?_

There was one thing solid in Dandrane’s mind:  ghosts could never have done this. Logic dictated that if extremely powerful ghosts would thrash and claw everything in sight, they’d leave marks more like humans. Animal ghosts wouldn’t be an unusual idea, but unless the animals had died with rabies, they wouldn’t thrash about so much in a house. And why would they pick an abandoned house to fool around in when there was a village of people and a forest near by they would no doubt be far more comfortable in? No, no, it was something solid. An animal, or maybe a pack of them, had lived in the house at one point.

But that didn’t make sense, either, since there was that anti-vermin charm on the house… They couldn’t have even dug their way in. Unless they came in before the charm was placed; there was no way to tell how old the charms were, so that was a possibility.

“Danny, I found something!” Peeves said excitedly, pulling his head out of the ruined wardrobe and opening the broken door.

A large number of bottles rolled out with a long series of clinks. There must have been at least fifty, and they were either clear green or murky brown.

“Are those _beer_ bottles?” The witch asked, her head spinning as she looked over them, making sure to only touch them with the tips of her gloves. There were several different labels, all faded and in varying states of legibility, but they were all brews. Stout, mead, _and_ ale; there was even a whisky bottle among the bunch.

Dandrane wanted to question whether or not anyone was absolutely sure that no one had gotten inside the house before, but it was fruitless - the villagers avoided the place, the tourists had always complained about not being able to go in, and the kids tended to be at least mildly spooked about the whole thing. And Peeves, of course, had never even visited it until today.

But for some reason, Chief Wiggum’s voice snapped to life in her head, put there by many nights of watching _Simpsons_ marathons:   _This is the work of rowdy teens._

In a way, something about it all did click. A house so guarded against weather and vermin and would-be-peepers, a house people literally had to blast their way into was partially furnished as if staged in case someone came poking around, but so _impersonal_ that no one could guess who had done it. It was, at one point, likely a house for private meetings. The Order of the Pheonix, perhaps, or some other resistance during Voldemort’s rise to power. Perhaps it was simpler than that, and it was a sort of swinger’s club - it would explain why the beds had covers and why there had been a living room set at one point.

The furniture being destroyed though...it suggested that either the club was disbanded due to beast intrusion, or disbanded before the wreck began… But it didn’t explain the lack of mirrors or candle-holders or the pile of bottles; that pointed towards people who either couldn’t vanish objects or weren’t allowed to drink anywhere else. Whatever club had stayed there could’ve been disbanded, and shortly afterwards teenagers had found their way in...

“You know,” Peeves said, pulling Dandrane out of her train of thought, “I’ve seen something like this before.”

“Like what?”

“ _These_ ,” he waved towards the odd series of holes on the door. “I swear, the pattern looks so _familiar…_ ”

_Lumos maxima._ The light at the tip of Dandrane’s wand grew brighter as she peered at the ruined door. “Someone rammed something sharp into it...see the way the wood’s pushed on the inside? It’s all the same angle.”

Peeves scooted closer to her to have a look, and then turned with glittering black eyes. “Well, look at Miss Detective! But I’ll up you one,” he grinned, pulling out his self-inking quill. “We’ll connect the dots!”

He drew one line between each sequential dot on the front of the door, his tongue sticking out slightly. It was a strange sort of zig-zag pattern, almost, with dramatic arcs at the top and very loose ones at the bottom.

“Anything ringing a bell, Danny?” Peeves said jovially, his hands sitting proudly on his hips.

“No…not even a little. It looks more like modern art.”

The poltergeist’s face fell a little, but it only lasted until he realized that she was going to take a picture of it. “Ooh, get me with it!” He moved to lean against the side, one arm propped up and the other gesturing to his work of art.

The flash made him blink heavily afterward, but he still grinned at her.

“Well there’s only one room up here we haven’t checked - the one next to this. How much do you want to bet it’s got more furniture with tooth-marks?” Dandrane said with a bit of a smile, winding the plastic gear on the camera in preparation for the next shot.

It figured that the last room in the slowly-decaying hallway was the only door in the house that was locked. _Basic unlocking spells are probably useless for this one,_ Dandrane reasoned after a harsh jiggle of the handle. Someone had tried to get in before, judging by the large dent in the door.

“I’ve got this,” Peeves said nonchalantly as his arm disappeared through the dented door handle. She heard the door rattle and click, but it didn’t take ten seconds before he got it open. “Ladies first,” he purred, his black eyes glittering.

She couldn’t help but be impressed for the second time that day. “You’re not going to tell me how you did that, are you?”

“Why would I do _that_ ?” The poltergeist teased in his usual manner, and good _God_ did she want to just shove him against the wall and kiss him.

Dandrane couldn’t help but grin back, but she knew hers was a lot more wolfish than his. He usually gave excited or teasing grins, ones of mischievousness and a warped sense of humor.

She, on the other hand, was thinking of just how fun it would be to get him to talk. He could deny it all he wanted, but the truth was he was rather touch-sensitive and he seemed to have a fondness for worn leather. The pair of leather gloves she had in her closet would be very useful for exploiting his unspoken fetish. She was _dying_ for an excuse to play around with him unconventionally, and if she got a fun tidbit out of him, it was even better. She just had to wait a little while; it wouldn’t be fun to fool around in a place filled with nothing but dust.

“Because you like me,” she teased back, hearing her voice go a little lower than she intended. Well, it was a little hard to control herself when all she was thinking of was his cute sex-fueled expressions. She wanted to just pin him to the doorframe...

“I’m _still_ not telling,” he replied, looking away as a slight blush appeared on his face. His expression changed to something more curious, and Dandrane followed his line of sight.

There was nothing but two pieces of furniture in the room, both under incredibly dusty sheets. One was tall and wide, and the other was short and about a yard long. A dresser and a cabinet, most likely. The floor had a thick layer of dust in places and there was a pile of sheets near the door.

This had been a storage room for other furniture.

“Ok, _now_ I’m confused,” Peeves grumbled, floating lazily into the room. “Why lock _this_ up?”

With a sweep of her arm, the sheet on the short object was pulled off and unleashing a cloud of dust with it - it was, in fact, a desk. A very _old_ desk. Not as old as the house, but old enough to be considered an antique.

“Awful lot of sheets,” Peeves commented above the pile, kicking it.

“They must have had a lot more furniture in here, once,” Dandrane replied, tapping the desk to check for curses. It was clean, so she opened the long drawer in the center - empty. “You want to see what’s under veil number two for me?”

“Why? It’s probably just another wardrobe.”

“Could be treasure inside. Or clues.” More empty drawers, though it had been used at one point, indicated by the ink stains in the top right drawer. The desk was in remarkably good shape for something that might have come out of the 1920’s.

The large sheet was pulled away, another layer of dust coming with it, and Peeves hovered there, looking sort of bored. “It’s an empty china cabinet. Whoop-de-doo.”

The witch glanced over, expecting something to match the desk.

No, it was older than the desk, she guessed. Older than her paternal grandmother’s tacky dining room cabinet with the ugly decorative plates. She’d seen it before somewhere…

“Why are you _staring_ at it?” Peeves asked in a mix of annoyance and curiosity.

“I swear I’ve seen it before. Like… At someone’s house or something.” _But only Jillian keeps china, and she keeps it in the kitchen… Mom and Dad’s cabinet is from the sixties or something, it’s much younger…_

“Does it _matter_?”

“Well, people collect furniture, it could be worth something…”

The locked door. The pile of sheets. The spells that deliberately kept animals and people out of the house.

“What, y’think people raided the house so they could _sell furniture_?”

If she went with her club theory, then maybe someone had an eye for the good pieces and locked it away when the club was disbanded, coming back periodically to take a new piece away. They might have seen the chewed wood everywhere after whatever animal pack invaded the house at one point - coyotes or wolves, probably, it would explain some of the screaming noises - and cast the anti-vermin charm on it. Teenagers then found the house, partied hard, and then the new impenetrable spell was put in place, locking them out for good… Yes, _that_ would make sense. Heck, maybe the worn-down look was deliberately made to keep people from wanting to go inside after the club disbanded. Or even _before_.

“Basically? Yes.”

Peeves eyed her curiously. “Why not take the stuff downstairs first, then?”

“Maybe in case whatever organization had the house before decided to come back. It could’ve been anything - a rebel group, or something illicit like orgies or something… I wonder if this whole shebang was  an elaborate ruse to hide the club’s activities…”

“Why go to all that trouble? You’d think they’d hide the house or silence it...”

“Good point. Maybe they didn’t think of that...or the house was a normal house before, so they couldn’t hide it for fear of the village talking. Maybe they thought driving people away from the house by making it haunted would be less risky than just quieting it, too. Maybe the noise wasn’t even _them_ , but whatever animals used this place as a den, or the teenagers covering their parties - maybe even _both_ . But whatever or whoever had this house before, I’m pretty sure of three things:  one, someone kept this room securely locked to come back for this stuff later; two, a pack of animals invaded this house at one point and ruined the lesser furniture downstairs; and three, this house was _designed_ to look decrepit.”

Peeves appeared to think hard, crossing his arms and humming a little. “I _guess…_ Not even _one_ rowdy ghost was ever here, huh?”

“I doubt it. Unless a couple of poltergeists decided to have some fun without you,” Dandrane said with a smile. “Pretty sure that’d be worthy of a TV-movie, actually.”

It was at that that the witch realized where she had seen the china cabinet - but it wasn’t _in_ a movie, it _held_ movies. Lonny’s basement theater had the same cabinet sitting at the foot of his stairs, his prized rare tapes all shown off with his makeshift lighting rig inside the glass, and the drawers holding movie posters he hadn’t found places for. He’d bragged about it the first time she visited her fellow teacher’s house five years ago, something about his neighbor at the time practically giving the thing away when he made his first move into New York decades ago…

And if there was one thing that delightful man knew outside of movies and history, it was antiques.

“Peeves, do you think you could pull the cabinet away from the wall for me, please?”

“Why?”

“I want to check for tags. Usually, people label where a piece of furniture like this came from, or at least who it’s supposed to go to in wills or something…” She couldn’t stop staring at the antique before her, even as Peeves pulled it away from the wall with little effort. It was probably worth two or three-thousand dollars, depending on how old it really was. That, combined with the desk… Oh _man_. She could actually afford to buy a high-end suit that wasn’t secondhand without having to save for forever. Hell, she could buy one for Peeves, too, if he wanted… God, she’d have to talk to Lonny, see if he knew exactly who she could sell these to, and send a picture as soon as possible.

“Earth to Danny,” Peeves taunted, waving a hand in front of her face.

“Sorry, just… Lost in thought.”

“I could tell,” he said snarkily. “You going to check it or just stand there drooling?”

“I’m not _drooling_ ,” Dandrane replied as she examined the back. Nothing was there. Not so much as a worker’s stamp. “ _Specto praesidium.”_ Nothing happened. A quick look through the drawers yielded nothing, either. It was completely clean.

The furniture belonged to no one. The house didn’t seem to have been touched for a long time; whoever the furniture-hoarder was, they probably wouldn’t come back anytime soon. They might even be _dead_. It was like Lady Luck had decided to pop back over to her table and blow on the dice.

“Babe, would you hate me if I sold these overseas and gave you a cut?”

Peeves eyes lit up fantastically. “Why, _Danny_ , are you suggesting stealing them for your own gain?” He asked with a giggle. “You’re even wilder than I thought!”

“So you’ll keep that beautiful mouth of yours shut about this?”

The poltergeist grinned wider. “For you? Yeah.” She felt her heart flutter. “You’re _really_ paying me?”

“Hey, even if I didn’t, I’d blow a chunk of it on spoiling you rotten anyway.”

He looked very fond of her all of the sudden. “Like I’m not rotten _enough,_ ” Peeves said, sliding quite close and wrapping his arms loosely around her neck. Ah, it was _that_ look. That nice _take-me-you-fool_ look. “You’re such a weird bird.”

“Tweet tweet, motherfucker.”

Yet again, the filter between her mouth and her brain had completely failed to do it’s job around him. The cackle that he unleashed at her stupid reflexive comment, though, was completely worth it - it was the kind that pierced the air and bounced off the walls, and just so very _like_ him. It was even better when he slumped against her, hanging onto her as his shoulders shook and his face turned almost completely purple. Despite her complete embarrassment, she couldn’t help but snicker a bit with him. It _was_ rather infectious. And she’d been so _stupid_. She blamed the lack of proper caffeine in her system.

“I’m sorry,” she chuckled as she wrapped her arms around him in a loose hug, “I completely ruined the moment.”

Peeves seemed to sink in the air, lowering until he was no longer resting his head face-down on her shoulder, but just barely leaning his forehead against it, giggling into the wool. Even after it died down and he only let the occasional _hee hee_ , he was still rather flushed.

“I missed you,” he muttered.

Dandrane was suddenly grateful that it was so quiet. She might not have heard the poltergeist otherwise.

She wanted to remember that breathless, affectionate tone of voice for years to come. There was something incredibly earnest about it.

“I missed you, too,” Dandrane replied, breathing in deep. He smelled just like he had when she’d left. This time, though, she recognized the herbal scent lying between the slight musk and the candle-smoke. She didn’t know how she hadn’t realized before - it was one of the many things her father stuffed in the the Christmas turkey every year, and one of the few he managed to grow himself for as long as she could remember:   _sage_.

It almost made her laugh. The one herb that was said to help banish unwanted spirits, and Peeves the Poltergeist smelled like he washed his clothes and slicked his hair with it.

He pulled away just enough to look up at her, his still-present grin not quite meeting his eyes. “Haven’t felt that in _centuries_ , you know. _Awful_ stuff.”

“Yeah, feelings kinda suck, don’t they?” Dandrane tossed a look at the china cabinet  before them. One photograph was all she needed. She shouldn’t have to take anything with her. “This place sucks, too. Wanna get out of here?”

“We going to your room?”

She cocked a grin. “Where _else_ would we go to get some heavy petting in?”

It took a while to finish what she’d started:  taking pictures of the furniture, fixing the hole in the back of the house, erasing the rest of the footprints left in the mud, and making the somewhat leisurely journey back to the castle, but at least Peeves held her hand the whole time.

On the other hand, it didn’t take ten minutes after stepping in her office door for Dandrane to be spread-eagled on the couch with the poltergeist’s head between her thighs, following her somewhat breathy instructions down to the letter until she fisted his hair and saw stars behind her eyelids.

He didn’t even seem to care that he couldn’t get hard that afternoon. There was a knowing glint in his eye when he grinned up at her in his usual mischievous manner and told her not to worry. He didn’t have to say any more - the mess of sheets and blankets said it for him more than the slightly musky smell in her bedroom did. She didn’t even mind. It was a combination of hilarious and endearing, actually.

Peeves must’ve _really_ missed her. Why else would he have yanked himself off so much in six days?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well! Looks like I finished by March after all! It only took 38 days! I kept having to rewrite junk, though (I went through 2 different openings and 3 different takes on the ending scenes there), so hopefully the next chapter will take less time. Keep your fingers crossed for me!
> 
> _I_ know that _you_ all know what the Shrieking Shack was for, but in-universe no one outside of the Golden Trio, McGonagall, and Pomfrey know, so it’s fun to look at from an outsider’s point of view. Also, why on Earth was there a house there with furniture for Lupin, anyway? Villagers must’ve known about the house already, right? It’s why they didn’t just go “wow there’s a weird new building outside the village that we’ve never seen before just falling to pieces and screaming at night every month... Seems legit!” That house _must_ have had a purpose before, I don't care if Lupin implied the house was built for him… No one could dupe a whole village into thinking a house had been there the whole time; it's so improbable! Danny of course thinks it was some kind of house-turned-secret-organization-turned-ruin that was invaded by wolves and teenagers at different points. Peeves has never seen the house before, so he’s got nothing to go on. But _I_ know what it could’ve been. You’ll find out next time, when we get into the last of the New Years’ holiday! (*＾∀ﾟ)ъ
> 
> New spells! _Fenestra visum_ : Latin for “viewing window”; a spell that allows the user to look through solid objects, like they’re looking through a porthole! _Specto praesidium_ : Latin for “observe defenses”; a spell that allows the user to see what wards and spells are placed on an object, as written on the walls in whatever root language the spell has. Spells that fade over time will still show up, but once it has worn off it will no longer appear with this casting. There are spells that will appear to be in English, Arabic, Korean - anything, actually! In here, Danny’s reading Old Latin, since it seems most HP spells are Latin-based. (I’ve had that one on the back-burner for ages! We see in stories all the time about breaking wards and curses and so on, but how do they even know where to start?? Now there’s an answer!)
> 
> Aaaand I considered doing another sex scene in this chapter, but I wasn’t really feelin’ it. The idea of getting off in a house that dirty kept making me wince at the health problems that would potentially arise and I couldn’t make a good transition from there to the castle, so we ended up with a proper close out and a short tease. We’ll get to Danny’s lovely idea of fet-play another time. I know some of you out there are as eager for it. (*´σ з｀) ～♪
> 
> Oh, and if you’re wondering who would be taking furniture… Well, I’ll leave it up to you. Was it Lupin, who needed money post-graduation? Sirius, who grew up with antique furniture? James or Peter, whose childhood homes are shrouded in mystery? Or someone who assisted in the restoration and staging of the ancient house who saw an opportunity? The definite thing is that Danny will never know. She doesn’t have to, anyway.


	16. Development

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've noticed I've gotten about 3 new readers since I last updated! Ahoy there! I love getting kudos but please validate me by commenting! I don't care if it's positive or negative!!! It doesn't have to be a full-out review or anything, a single sentence would do!!! 
> 
> **Make sure to read the end notes for something important!** ~ヾ(＾∇＾)
> 
> IMPORTANT SPOILER TAGS: interrogation play (light*), orgasm denial, anal play, handjobs, ditry talk, mild bondage, cock rings 
> 
> _*no bloodshed, bruising, or other serious physical/mental harm is used; this interrogation is done mostly through words, wand-threats, and some hair pulling, aka “this is pretty darn tasty vanilla”_

Peeves had a habit of of opening doors instead of passing through them. He also had a habit of drifting through walls unexpectedly, and he loved passing through cupboards and wardrobes in order to sneak up on people to let them know their privacy meaning nothing to him. As far as he was concerned, the castle was his ancient, enormous house that people just so happened to stay in about eight and a half months out of the year.

So he had absolutely no qualms of suddenly opening the door to the _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ classroom cupboard, a somewhat deep hole in the wall that sat on the left of the entryway. Especially since he was looking for his strangely elusive girlfriend.

“GOD DAMN IT!”

There she was, spiky pink hair and all at the back of the cupboard, hunched over a small tub perched on an empty trunk, bathed in the light of a floating red orb and surrounded by photographs clipped to a clothesline strung all the way around the tiny room.

“Did you _not_ see the ‘Knock First’ sign I put out there?!”

Peeves shut the door behind him with a bang, making the photos blow in the temporary gust. “Nope.”

“Shit, now I’ll have to do this one all _over_ again...” She grumbled darkly, picking up the dark piece of paper in her gloved hand and vanishing it. “I mean, really, Peeves - I TOLD you I was going to develop these today.”

He’d forgotten, honestly. He’d been so happy to have her back in the castle that he only half-listened to her pillow talk that morning, and it wasn’t like he saw much of her yesterday, either.

“Sorry,” he muttered, not entirely meaning it. It wasn’t like she couldn’t just make another. Developing photos wasn’t _that_ hard.

“Just look before opening my doors at random next time, okay?” Dandrane said somewhat crossly, reaching behind her to get a fresh sheet of paper out of a very short pile on one of the spare desks that always seemed to sit in there. “Did you want something?”

Peeves directed his gaze to the nearest group of pictures, trying to ignore the drooping feeling in his gut. She wasn’t so much _mad_ as she was _irritated_ , and for some reason that hurt worse. “Wanted to know what you were up to.”

The picture in front of him was of a place he definitely hadn’t seen before. It was taken at an angle, where on one part it showed off the window on a beige wall depicting the gloomy day outside, and the other part was a collage of colorful posters and pieces of paper on the adjacent wall, with half a slightly beat-up couch in front. Some of the posters were obviously for bands (he recognized _The Ramones_ album cover and the name _The Damned_ above what must’ve been their group photo in the corner), and the biggest neon-colored flyer had “The Screaming Doxies LIVE!” in a sort of jagged word balloon over a cartoon drawing of four women with outlandish hairstyles. Some of the ones surrounding it had the exact same “ONLY at PIT STOP” message printed at the bottom, but with different band names and pictures shown - others had variations, like “PLAGUE SQUARE (two drink minimum)”, “LIVE at The Harpies’ Den” and “ONLY at The Brink! (Wednesday is Ladies’ Night!)”.

The photograph next to that one showed a small kitchen, taken from the corner to show it all off. It was incredibly plain in comparison, with relatively clear counters and a few chrome muggle appliances. Aside from a single rectangular framed painting of neon-colored fish skeletons hanging from a tall cupboard door, there were no posters or flyers around - instead, there was a few photographs of _somethings_ pinned with miscellaneous sorts of flat pins with designs he couldn’t quite see attached to what must’ve been the fridge. There were colorful letters arranged haphazardly that spelled out a message on the top door, too:  B I T E  M E  F U C K O .

Peeves felt the corners of his mouth twitch into a grin, and he held back a snicker.

“I’m sorry for yelling,” Dandrane said suddenly in the sort of voice that made her sound rather tired. “I just sorta messed up a few of these already, and then this was supposed to be the last one…”

“‘S okay,” Peeves replied with a shrug as his stomach suddenly felt lighter. “So, where’s these pictures from?”

“Which-? Oh, I took those for you, actually,” she said a little awkwardly. “That’s my apartment.” She seemed determined to keep her eyes on the photography paper she was manipulating with her wand. It was hard to tell if she was embarrassed or not. “I figured since…you know, you might not get a chance to see it any time soon, so I just thought you might want to see it for yourself. In a way.”

She did it for him. Just for him.

“And I missed seeing my living room wall,” she added with a somewhat wistful note and a little tilted nod of her head. “The best thing is when you walk in and _BAM!_ Color assaults your eyes.”

Okay, so maybe _most_ of it was for him. The gesture still counted. “Take any of your _bedroom_?” he asked with a leer.

“Further down here,” she replied, pointing her wand tip at the bit of wall behind her. “It was one of the ones I had to redo earlier.”

Peeves glanced at pictures of Dandrane with different people - friends, most likely, as she didn’t look a thing like them - and a couple of the interior of the Shrieking Shack, including the one with him posing in front of the wardrobe (he looked pretty good in it, if he said so himself) before finding what he was looking for. Her bedroom was smaller than the one she had now, and more crowded looking. There was a slightly smaller bed with no posts at all, a few dark pink pillows, and a black cover with flecks of white like stars or poorly-spaced polka dots; a long dresser with a big mirror and a funny-looking box on top of it; a weird-looking chair with strange wheels on it’s feet sitting in an empty corner with a thick black slab on it’s seat; a short lamp with spikes around the rim and a lit light-bulb inside atop a very simple nightstand, which also had an odd clear-purple square thing on top that Peeves didn’t recognize; and aside from the cluster of hard-to-see photographs by the dresser, the walls held another dozen posters in varying size. Most of them seemed to showcase people, but one in particular had _I WANT TO BELIEVE_ clearly written below a strange blurry picture that he’d seen somewhere before. There was also an eerie neon-pink glow from the unseen wall the camera pointed from.

It was a weird room. Partially because the bed was made and there were no piles of clothes on the floor, and partially because Peeves knew he had to be looking at furniture that was a hell of a lot more modern than the pieces in the castle. Despite the lack of a bookcase, though, it was all still ringing volumes of _her_ , and he felt like looking at it was both a new experience and a familiar one. Like peeking in her head.

The witch behind him made a significant hum - she was looking at something interesting, no doubt. Peeves turned his head to look, and saw it was nothing but a picture of the front of the Shrieking Shack. What was so interesting about that?

“What’s the ‘hmm’ for?” Peeves leaned over her shoulder to get a better look. The Shack was the same as the other day, with it’s disheveled look and boarded-up windows. “Nothing’s different.”

“You do-” She paused, blinking down at the photograph. “This is even weirder than I thought.”

“ _What’s_ weird?”

“I need to look at the chalkboard again.”

Ah, yes, the chalkboard. Dandrane seemed to have fun writing her facts and theories about the Shack on the big chalkboards in her classroom. She’d used both sides already, and she seemed to have transformed a student’s chair into another board just to have more writing space sometime between yesterday and today. He didn’t get the chance to read that one yet, since he spent some time outside her room as per usual and was very focused on just _finding_ her earlier.

Dandrane clipped the photo to the line, and he followed her out as she carefully slid through the door and banished the red orb of light. Her classroom was gloomy with the cloudy white-grey light coming in, but at least the creature tanks and rainbow of reference books made it just a little less so. Dandrane only had to make a pulling gesture with her wand-hand for the chalkboard to wheel itself over to them, meeting them halfway.

“You wrote an awful lot in two days, Danny,” Peeves commented cheerily, deciding to sit on the edge of one of the closest desks. Her board was covered in notes and questions, some heavily crossed out rather than erased, and one unfamiliar note in particular jumped out to him. Probably because it was written in the biggest, boldest letters.

**USED TO BELONG TO IAN HERLIHY!!**

The pink-haired professor knelt down to scribble whatever new thing she had discovered in the last remaining bit of free space.

“So who’s Ian Herlihy?” Peeves asked, swinging his legs to and fro. He couldn’t help but admire the view - she looked so damn _good_ in jeans, it was a wonder she didn’t have more people hitting on her left and right. Maybe he was thinking so much about it because he had missed her, and the tugging sensation in his chest he got sometimes when he thought about her made it worse.

“Last owner of the house. I found a book in the village library that talked about the house in more detail than the other haunted-Britain books I’ve looked through.” Dandrane finally stood straight, her eyebrows slightly raised. “I didn’t tell you?”

“You must’ve missed that bit,” he commented with a cheeky grin.

The witch smiled wide. “Ooh boy! Well, okay - I wondered what the house was before it was fenced off in the seventies, right?”

“Only brought it up about ten times.”

“Right. So I tried to talk to the barmaid at that big pub yesterday - what’s it called, Three Brooms or something? Whatever, you know what I mean,” she waved off, summoning her chair from across the room. It flew over like it was severely kicked and landed almost as softly as a feather. “She didn’t know much about it, she only knew it was built while her grandfather still ran the place before her dad. So the whole town-didn’t-know-it-existed theory is completely debunked.”

She had crossed her legs and loosely propped her elbows on the armrests. Excitement shown in her eyes; there seemed to be no stopping her once she got onto theory topics. Not like he minded. It was rather becoming of her. “That one _was_ pretty far-fetched, Danny.”

“Always good to keep ideas on the table until they’re entirely disproved, Peeves. The least likely outcome can sometimes be the answer,” she said wisely, grinning all the same. “So anyway, the librarian knew a little more, and pointed me towards the ghost-lit section - which is pretty small, by the way, I’m pretty sure my collection is bigger -” Peeves snickered a little. Of course hers was, she had two and a half shelves devoted to the subject of real-life ghost encounters, hauntings, and wizard ghosts alone! “- and once I found the name in this poor old book - it was something like _Scotland’s Greatest Haunts_ \- I pointed it out to him and he told me that a lot of people who saw the _original_ construction of the place are either dead or long forgotten. His father kinda knew Ian - the guy who built the place - and told me that he used to be the Hogwarts’ groundkeeper _years_ ago. Like, _the 1800’s_ sort of years.”

Peeves wracked his memory. He never paid much attention to the groundskeepers. Hagrid was one of the few that made a lasting impression, and even then it was due to his massive size and his penchant for keeping dangerous beasts more than for his personality. After all, the school hadn’t had any edible crops other than pumpkins, cabbages, and herbs for about one-and-a-half centuries now; before then, groundskeepers had to toil in them for ages, and were only ever seen inside the castle for meals and sleep, on the off-chance that Peeves caught them. In fact, the rooms the groundskeepers used to live in had been long abandoned, or transformed into teacher’s offices…

“So I looked up the property records while I was there, and it turns out Ian built the place in 1881, after buying the land. And then Hagrid found me in the Staff Room yesterday -”

“You actually _go_ in there?” Peeves teased. “Or did you just get lost again?”

“I know where _some_ things are, babe,” Dandrane said with a roll of her eyes. “ _Anyway_ , he found me in there rooting through the filing cabinet to find where the old exams I borrowed went back, and we struck up a conversation, so I asked how long he’d had been a groundskeeper, and expressed interest in how he got the got the job - did you know he’s been the groundskeeper since he was _fourteen_?”

Peeves hummed. “Sounds about right.”

“Yeah, he was the apprentice to Ian for like, a year, and then Ian passed away! So apparently Ian Herlihy built the place to live away from the castle and just _walked_ here every day, and when I mentioned the possibility of him owning a house around the village, Hagrid said he knew the guy had _lived_ in Hogsmeade, but didn’t know where, and he have any kids or anything, which means that the house was actually abandoned!”

“What about Hogwarts?” Peeves asked thoughtfully. The excitement in her eyes faultered. “People leave all kinds of stuff to us, you know.”

“I...guess that’s possible,” Dandrane trailed off, tapping her chin with her finger. “Finding the will would be difficult, though, it’s probably stored away...”

Peeves rolled his eyes. “Danny, I know you’re not used to our customs yet,” he explained in the most patient voice he could, “but if a teacher here snuffs it and doesn’t have any kin, their stuff _usually_ goes to us.”

“Wait, _what_?” Dandrane squinted at him, seeming to try to make sense of it. “So if I didn’t have a family or a will, you guys could just take everything?”

The poltergeist nodded in a kinda-sorta sort of way. “If you lived here, yeah. Good thing you’re not a citizen, eh?”

“That’s _really_ fucked up,” Dandrane shook her head, clearly still trying to wrap her mind around it. “How do you even _know_ that?”

“’S the way it’s always been,” he commented with a shrug. “Been kicking around a thousand years, Danny, some things just don’t change. You’d be surprised at how many families have left us things on their deathbeds just from being _nostalgic_ in their last moments.”

“See, _that_ part makes sense,” Dandrane grumbled. “At least forced donations weren’t in _my_ contract. Either way, though, Ian’s house wasn’t being used for anything official until the seventies, when the so-called ‘haunting’ began,” she added, making air-quotations with her fingers, “so even if it was left to the school in 1940-something, you guys weren’t using it for anything on record, so my secret-club theory still sticks.”

Peeves looked at the board farthest away. Beneath the spells cast on the place, there were theories of what kind of club it was:

 

  * __Order of the Phoenix?_ _- >potential prequel, time + loc. add up__


  * _Village coven meetings?_ _- > At least 2 practicing Pagans in village_


  * _Used for village elites’ cover-ups?  - > no mayor!!! bar’s op. is popular instead_


  * _Money laundering?_ **_X_** _no evidence in house_


  * _Hogsmeade mob???_


  * _Safe house (war refugees, family members, personal use)?_


  * _Hogwarts’ cover-ups?_ **_X_** _no need w/ priv. Rooms + hidey holes here_


  * _Swingers club?_ _Tunnel can include Hogwarts’ staff (maybe founded!)_



 

Peeves felt his face twist into disgusted confusion at the last line. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why one of Dandrane’s go-to ideas had been a club for illicit orgies. Some of the other potentials made sense - it wouldn’t be the first time a group of people from the village conspired to cover up a crime of some sort. There were several major occurrences like that over the years, he still remembered people and ghosts alike talking… And a pretense to the Order of the Phoenix was a good idea, too, considering Grindelwald’s antics during the early 40’s and the amount of followers he had amassed.

The poltergeist knew what the other side of the board said, though. It was a massive list of all the things in the house that were peculiar. The amount of furniture, the single locked room, what things were broken and where, the wardrobe of beer bottles…

Dandrane hummed, leaning her head on her fist as she watched her foot kick slightly in the air. “But the gap is what I struggle with. Let’s say you’re right and the school got the house after Ian died. They couldn’t give it to Hagrid because it was made for a normal-sized human, and he couldn’t fit. The head of the school, who owns the house until they’re replaced, uses it for whatever they want - private meetings, a summer home, a refuge for family or whoever, whatever it was. Of course they kept the furnishings, let things stay in place, and put on a locking spell to prevent passer’s-by from getting in. Teenagers manage to get in, party it up, and the head decides to make the place look more run-down to prevent people from wanting to go in, maybe adds on the no-looking-inside charm. Add some fake moss and mold here and there, ruin the roof, make it look like some of the wood is rotting - but it’s all just a costume. Animals get in at some point when the house isn’t in use and wreck the place. They put up a charm to prevent that along with the one that won’t let anyone get in through the doors. The whole house gets coated in weather-charms so powerful a full-grown tree couldn’t cave the roof in.

“But why board up windows on the _inside_ ? You don’t need to do that if it just _looks_ like the windows are boarded up. Why board them up for real, when you already have magic that prevents people from coming inside? And why lock a single room with the nicest furniture inside _before_ the animals got in?”

“Wait - the boards on the outside were _fake_?”

“You couldn’t tell?” Dandrane blinked in surprise, and gestured to her new line on the board next to her:   _boards over windows outside are_ _fake_ _\- dining room interior matches exterior planks!!_ “They were a more advanced concealment charm. I swear they look _just like_ the ones on the inside…”

Peeves felt like his head was spinning, all these strange ideas and facts and unanswered questions swirling around in his thoughts… He was normally good at abstract thinking, as it was what fueled his creativity over half the time, but not when it was this much of a confusing cluster.

Dandrane sighed heavily, seeming to sink into her chair. “The only thing that I can think of sounds ridiculous. I mean, I can’t figure out _why_ they would, exactly, since the place was empty, but… It feels like they wanted to keep something _in_ , rather than out.”

His focus shifted entirely to this new idea; it was best to do things one at a time, after all, it was the only way to get his brain from feeling cross-eyed. “Have to be something dangerous,” Peeves commented, swinging his legs slower, “to warrant locking the place down.”

“Yeah, but what? Why keep something so deadly you had to seal it inside a house?” The professor tapped her chin. “I mean, I guess as sort of a backup weapon of some kind, it makes sense…”

“A basilisk? Wouldn’t be the first time,” Peeves said with a sneer, thinking back to the hidden basement. “Still can’t believe I never found it _before_ , all those years of going through walls. Must’ve kept missing it when it was running around that year...”

“Good idea, but I doubt it, it wouldn’t survive in there. Even magical snakes need humidity-regulators and constant heat sources… I don’t think the house would’ve been damp enough, and someone would’ve had to go in there every day to check it. Though… I wonder when those boards went up. Maybe someone wasn’t keeping a _weapon_ exactly, but since it had to chew, maybe it was more like a pet they wanted to keep secret?”

“A pet that struck out in it’s cage only a few nights a year?” Peeves snorted. “What, were they keeping a werewolf?”

Danny’s sat in silence, staring into space with wide eyes and nothing short of an awestruck expression. She didn’t have to say anything, he could read the _why did I never think of that_ in her face as clear as day.

Peeves didn’t blame her for a minute. His concept of time was skewed, after all, he didn’t know exactly when he had heard the tortured screams from deep within the village below. He didn’t bother paying attention to minor details like what day it was or what the moon’s cycle had been. It was likely that no one had. He only said it as a joke, and the moment he finished his own sentence his brain mashed the soup of random information into one cohesive easy-to-read thought:   _that’s it_.

“That explains so much,” Dandrane said in a far-away voice, standing with her shellshocked expression to look at the blackboard. She ran her gaze up and down it for a moment, and then made the second one wheel itself over to her with a pulling motion of her hand. She flipped the board upside down, and ran her finger down the list of odd things she had noticed being broken, her digit ghosting down the surface, not disturbing even a fraction of the chalk dust.

Peeves floated over to read, too, feeling like someone had shaken him by the shoulders.

The countless pieces of broken furniture. The teeth marks scattered about the house that he had excitedly pointed out. The torn sheets on broken beds. They were all caused by a wolf with the need to take out it’s furious energy. The candle-holders and sharp objects were removed to stop it from stabbing itself, either by the wolf themselves or whoever put them in there; the mirrors had been removed and the windows covered in case it was powerful enough to smash through the reinforced glass, too.

Yes, it all made sense when he thought of it like that. Animals hadn’t broken in at all - it was just one, tearing the place apart over a period of several years.

“But why the locked room?” Peeves asked aloud, both to the professor beside him and himself. “Did the werewolf lock it up for _themselves_ or something?”

“Maybe…” Dandrane folded her arms across her chest, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “I think I’ve been thinking about the timeline all wrong. The person who cast all those charms… They knew the werewolf would _be_ there. They staged the house so the wolf would have something to chew on, or maybe to provide some sort of familiarity of their humanity to them... They probably had the same idea I did.” She turned to him, and her serious, contemplative expression was somehow really...enlightening. “They picked furniture to sell off later and hid it - I doubt whatever charm they used to lock the door would’ve broken easily, considering the size of the dent on it. All they had to do was wait and go back in when the wolf was gone or when they were leaving town, and pick a piece or two to sell at a time.”

“I don’t get it - why not just take it all beforehand?”

“You can’t flood the market with furniture like that all at once - even non-magic communities get suspicious at stuff like that, unless you’re selling your house. Not to mention, someone might have been helping them cast the charms, too, and I don’t doubt our like-minded caster would’ve wanted the furniture all for themselves. I imagine a whole house of furniture like that would’ve amassed a small fortune… They might have even been like me, where they’re confined in a more public space, so it’d be doubly suspicious. Shrinking magics only last so long, and I don’t have a place to hide stolen antiques with ghosts and loyal house-elves running everywhere.” Dandrane hummed, frowning at the board. “Speaking of… How long did you say the screaming lasted?”

“I wasn’t _counting_ , Danny.”

She flashed him a look. “I meant years, babe.”

“Anywhere between five and eight, I ‘spose. ‘M not sure.” Did it matter? He felt like his answer was right, and putting it with Dandrane’s timeline made so much sense he almost wanted to sit down.

Dandrane started ticking things off the list of strange items in the house, and paused on the broken bed. With a series of quick waves of her wand at the cupboard door, it burst open with a loud _thwap_ against the wall, pictures flying out like the wind was blowing them, twisting and flapping until they hovered in the air not two feet away from where they stood. Dandrane scanned them quickly, going over pictures of the outside of the Shack and pictures of her friends so fast it was like she was barely seeing them at all, and then snatched one of the Shack’s small bedroom out of the air. “There - can you see it?” She turned it around to face him, pointing at a section of the bed - it was the footboard, with prominent bite marks and deep scratches. “Look at the bite mark there,” she said, pulling another photograph down and holding it next to the first, “and compare it to these.”

The picture of the master bedroom had several more bites and larger claw marks left behind on the headboard. Next to the ones in the smaller bed… He squinted at them, as if that would adjust his eyesight somehow to enhance it further - the bites were different. He didn’t need any special enhancer to need to know that. “Are the marks _bigger_?”

“Bingo,” Dandrane grinned. “I noticed in the dark room when I was developing them, but I thought it was because of a pack of animals had come through before the house was sealed up.”

She waved the pictures away to stack themselves into a pile on the nearest desk. Peeves’ mind whirled; it felt rather like the photos that kept flying through the air. He had seen the shack through telescopes. He remembered waiting for the sounds of the things inside at the edge of the gate, when he could barely hear them from the windows minutes before. He recalled wondering what exactly lay inside, but not truly caring, so long as it hung around. The eventual disappointment when it stopped and never restarted. The eventual acceptance that it hadn’t been a ghost or poltergeist at all.

He’d spent nearly thirty years wondering on and off what was making the racket in the Shrieking Shack, and all along it was...it was… “It was just a _kid_.”

“Must’ve been hard, turning into a werewolf for their entire education. They probably missed classes, and who knew if they had any friends… You okay?”

“Yeah, just…”

“Mind-blown?”

“Yeah.” That felt right. He had went along playing detective with Dandrane, enjoying her ideas of everything… He supposed it was like a rug had been pulled out from underneath him while he was standing. Hilarious when it happened to other people, but not so much when it was himself.

Still, Dandrane was there, not helping him up, but grinning like she had fallen with him. “You know what this means, though, right?” She stood there, beaming with her hands on her hips. “You just helped solve a thirty-year-old mystery, Peeves! Just think about it - all those books on haunted locations of Great Britian? _Useless_! We just collectively pulled out every chapter written on the Shack in every book ever and tore them to shreds!”

Peeves laughed. He couldn’t help himself. He laughed and laughed at the complete lunacy of it, the completely worthless hours he had spent wondering over the years, the countless lies that had been spilled and believed with ease, and the knowledge that Dandrane was right. She was _so damn right_ . Every _Haunted Britiannica_ book was now worth less than the paper it was printed on.

“Though I think we should go over student records and cross-check it with that werewolf registry made several years ago, that would be proof enough… I mean, even if I can never tell anybody about it,” she said, quieter and less excitedly, even as Peeves couldn’t quite stop his cackle, “it’s still nice to have closure.”

Peeves finally looked up, his giggling almost done. Dandrane looked at the blackboards before her with a definite _thinking_ expression.

“Hm… Nah, you know what? I’m still going to write it down. Even if I can’t tell anyone right _now_ , there’s no way the world shouldn’t know about this eventually, right?” She looked at him, a smile on her lips but the undoubtable question in her eyes - _Right, Peeves?_

“I s’pose so, Danny,” he answered with his usual grin. Yes, he supposed she should. Werewolves had it better now. Not perfect, but better.

She looked like she’d just won a prize drawing. “That’s what I like to hear! Man, here I put those pictures away when I’m going to have to caption them all - you don’t mind if I slide them in with my notes, do you?”

He blinked as she started flipping through the stack of photographs. “They’re _your_ pictures.”

“Yeah, but you’re in some of them. I’m thinking of framing that picture of you with the sledgehammer. Don’t think it’d do you justice to just tape it up on the wall,” Dandrane flicked her gaze over to him, giving him one of those smarmier smirks. “I can picture you on my nightstand pretty easily…”

She paused, turning her head slightly to look at the photograph of him behind the house, and her smirk grew a little wider. “Hey, Peeves… Wanna play a game?”

“What kind?” He asked coyly, hoping it was just what he thought it was.

*~*~*~*~*

Peeves been sitting there for only a few minutes, behind her desk of all things, waiting for her to walk back in, and he was _already_ excited. He didn’t care if he had to look at the note-covered chalkboard strategically placed in front of the teacher’s desk the whole time. The very idea of getting to see her as an Auror, even just through fantasy, was sort of thrilling. He didn’t care if she wouldn’t be as threatening as she might have been on the field. This was still an opportunity to glimpse that part of her life, and he’d be damned rather than let _that_ go.

The door to her office closed loudly, and he leaned back in the ancient wooden chair to watch her descend the short staircase - she had changed out of her comfortable winter sweater and jeans and into a plain black pantsuit with an orange tie. He could hear the clunk of her boots hit the stone steps, bringing the faint new smell of black shoe polish. He supposed it was rather like a scene for a play; people had put on costumes to really sell their characters to the audience.

She’d even made a set of sorts for them. She had transformed desks into blackout curtains and strung them up with a wave of her wand, and dimmed the chandelier’s candles, all from behind the chalkboard once she had told him to sit as still as possible ten minutes ago. He was still feeling the tingling after-effects of her fresh magic sitting around. The only candles burning brightly were on the edges of the desk, floating in the air like they perched in an invisible candelabra.

It wasn’t until she got to the foot of the stairs that he could see the glint of the flames reflected back in her dark little glasses. He _had_ wondered if she was going to wear those.

“What are you smiling about?” Dandrane’s voice was cool and firm. She didn’t have even a trace of a smile. She was wearing her serious-business face.

“You,” he grinned, putting his hands behind his head casually. She had told him he didn’t have to  act like anybody but his usual self, provided he didn’t float or turn invisible, and of course even if he was technically playing the captured man here, he wouldn’t be any different. “Must be my lucky day, getting such a pretty interrogator. You’re even wearing my favorite color! You ever think about getting a bright orange suit to match?”

“No, but I know a facility where you get to wear an orange jumpsuit twenty-four-seven; it’s right up your alley,” she replied with a cruel sneer, stopping just out of his reach. “Though a person of your... _stature_ probably wouldn’t last a week in there.”

“A short joke? Really? You could do better than _that_.”

“I’m not here to joke around, Peeves. You know why you’re here.”

She was really getting into the role, wasn’t she? She seemed to have crafted a script in her head. Though, she hadn’t given him any indication of what he had done to land him in the ‘captured’ role in the first place… “Hm, the dark room, the candles, leaving your so-called _prisoner_ unrestrained… Seems a tad romantic, to me.”

“Don’t screw around!” She slammed a few pictures on the desk - he only got to glance at them before he was distracted by her leaning over him, a menacing scowl on her face and her wand pointed at his neck. He didn’t know if it was real or not - the wood certainly _felt_ real -  but the effect was the same. He couldn’t believe it, but he was actually getting nervous. Wands were still a threat, after all. “The only reason you’re here and not crammed in the isolation tank is because you’re my informant. Got it?”

“Crystal clear, Phlegmy,” he grinned up at her, moving his hands to his lap. He told her he wouldn’t call her by her real name while they played like this. He wondered if she would miss it.

“Good,” Dandrane gave a sort of wry smile as she pushed her wand back up her sleeve. “Then _start talking_.” She pushed a picture towards him - it was the picture of him posing next to the wardrobe in the Shrieking Shack. “What do you know about this?”

“Looks like a handsome man leaning against a wardrobe to me.”

She gripped his hair suddenly, sending slight tingles of pain and heat over his scalp as she pushed his head closer to the picture like she was going to knock him against the desk. He didn’t hit it, but his nose was an inch away from the colorful photograph. “The _holes_ , Peeves. What _made_ those?”

He blinked down at it. He really didn’t know the answer. Was this actually a game, or was she just using it as an excuse? “Dunno.”

“You said they looked familiar,” she commented in a calm, cold voice. It sent a not-unpleasant chill down his back. “What do you _think_ they look like?”

Peeves bit back the _halt!_ sitting on his tongue. She hadn’t gripped him harder or anything, but he was both a little worried and very excited about what she might do if he couldn’t give a real answer. He supposed he should try, in any case.

His eyes ran over the photo. The holes were more round, so they weren’t from arrows, and he doubted they were bullets - at least fired from a real gun. Surely someone would’ve heard that… Unless someone was using a wand. But there were no scorch marks, either. He _knew_ he had seen that pattern somewhere before. It couldn’t have been too long ago, for it to look so familiar… _Something_ must’ve stuck out in his memory. He just couldn’t find it right now. Maybe because his skin was starting to sizzle under her hand.

“Really don’t know. Maybe something in my room looks like it.”

She let go of him, and he sat up, feeling his head tingle in the cool air. “You didn’t tell me you had a room.”

“Don’t show my private places to just _anyone_ , Phlegmy,” he teased. “Play nice with me and I might make an exception.”

Dandrane crossed her arms. “I’m sure I could find it by myself, thanks.”

Peeves snickered. “Says the woman who can’t tell one passage’s entrance from another?”

He had the feeling she was glaring at him. “The castle may be big, but I’ve been here long enough to figure out which doors are fake and which are real. Finding your room won’t take very long, now that I know you have one.”

He couldn’t help the short cackle that escaped him. Taunting her like this was actually pretty fun! “You’re assuming it even _has_ a door! How cute!”

She grinned. It the sort someone gave after seeing an enemy trip and land on their face. “Thanks for the tip. That narrows the search quite a bit.”

“Oh, _please_ , Phlegmy, you can’t even remember which passageway goes where!”

“My memory for the castle’s layout may be shit, but I know how carpenters find room measurements, Peeves. It’s just a matter of simple math. An average high schooler could do it, provided they had a stick of dynamite to make a door with.”

The poltergeist felt his grin slip into almost nothing. Could she really do that? _Would_ she do that? It was his room, his privacy! Sure, he didn’t give her a lot of that, but he thought they had more trust between them than _that_.

Damn it, he was getting all caught up in it now. This was a _game_ . The Dandrane he knew wouldn’t really break into his room without him, or at least his consent. Unless it was ridiculously important. Maybe. She _did_ like to poke around things...

Dandrane slid another picture in front of him. It was him, with the sledgehammer perched on his shoulder. He saw why she liked that one a lot - not only was the coat she made rather nice on him, but his expression was very him:  cocky and full of confidence and mischief.

“Mind explaining this?”

“A beautiful witch asked me to make a big hole in a house. Can’t say no to something like that, can I?”

“ _How_ did you make the hole?” She leaned over, one hand firmly planted on the desk, staring down at such an angle that there was no light bouncing off her glasses. It was like he was looking into black holes.

“Well, that’s what hammers like that are for, aren’t they? _Breaking_ things,” he leaned back, crossing his arms loosely so only his hands overlapped over his stomach. “Just a lot stronger than others, I s’pose. But you _know that_ , don’t you?”

“Yes, just like I know you're going to eventually pay for breaking the cursed handcuffs from our previous encounters.”

Peeves grinned, a snicker passing his lips at the very thought of breaking countless pairs of restraining cuffs. It was something he would definitely do, both out of playfulness and spite. But at that thought… He wouldn’t _mind_ being put in handcuffs by her. He would be careful not to break them if she was doing something where she didn’t want him to be able to use his hands in retaliation. It sounded fun, even if it got frustrating. “You know why I’m still sitting here, don’t you?”

“My guess is that you find this entertaining,” Dandrane said, standing straight and tilting her hip to rest her free hand on. His eyes darted down to it, knowing exactly what her hips looked like now, especially when they were moving on top of him… Was she trying to provoke him? It was working.

“But you know _why_ ? You’re trying to get answers out me, but I don’t break easily. You keep this up, and we’re going to be here for a _long_ time,” he teased, hoping she got the hint.

“Good point.” The witch stared down at him as she pointed her wand at his head. Very close to his head, actually. When it was at his throat, it felt like a knife, but now it was more like a gun barrel. “Stand up and put your hands on the desk.”

He followed suit, feeling his magical blood rush a little faster. Finally! His only request while they were setting the rules would be that no matter what she was planning to interrogate him with or how, he’d end up face-forward in her lap. It was his game, too, after all. He didn’t mind having to follow orders like this if he could get his way.

“Don’t look so smug. Eyes down.”

He grinned wider, but stared down at the picture of himself. “You _should_ frame this,” he needled, hearing the chair he had been sitting in move, “Put it in your office where everyone can see… Now _that’d_ be a real kick.” Hands gripped at his arms, and he felt himself being pulled harshly backwards until he was sitting right in the middle of her lap, the heat of her legs practically eating through his clothes. The castle was damn cold today, and hell if she wasn’t like a little oven.

Quicker than he could think, she took hold of his wrists and placed them on the arms of the chair, where black ropes appeared and tied him down at the mutterings of a spell. He hardly had room to wiggle his hands.

“I hate to say it,” Dandrane said in his ear, “but you’re right. You _won’t_ break easily.” He heard the rustling of cloth behind him, like the gentle squeal of leather crinkling. “You’re not like other men. Not intimidated by weapons or threats.” Blood was rushing everywhere. His ear felt particularly warm, and _fuck_ he could actually feel her lean to press against his back. What was she going to do? She had just grinned and told him it’d be a surprise, and that she was sure he’d like it. “So we’ll try something else.”

One of her hands reached around his torso, but all he could see was black - she’d put on gloves. He vaguely wondered why until the tips of her fingers touched his jaw. The worn leather smoothed over it slowly, as if she were petting him, getting his little nerves to stand to attention with tiny sparks of pleasure and magic dancing over his skin. He felt like he should close his eyes and sit back against her, even as she cupped his cheek and ran her thumb over his cheekbone.

“Feel nice?”

He hummed in response. The leather was warm and comforting and oddly sensual, and he was reminded heavily of the jacket she had in her closet. Her fingers touched his hairline, brushing over his ear and flicking the pointed tip. She trailed her hand down, over the bare skin on his neck, and he felt her other arm curl around him. Her wand arm.

Her wand pointed right up at his collar. “All this is in the way, isn’t it?”

He expected his shirts to open slowly or something, like they’d been on the couch at Yule. Instead, all his buttons popped open at once, letting cold air hit his torso as his shirts slid aside of their own accord.

“That’s better.” Dandrane’s wand disappeared back up her sleeve, and the hand at his neck switched directions, going back to trace over his chin while her wand-hand slid over his stomach. There was no helping the little moan he gave when her index finger passed over his lips.

She chuckled darkly behind him. “You actually dig this, don’t you?” One hand trailed to his throat and the other over his ribs. “I knew it.” He felt her breath brush over his ear again, just as one set of her fingers started playing with his nipple. “You’ve got a _leather fetish_.”

“Do not,” he muttered defiantly, not caring about whether it was a game or not. He wasn’t going to let her make fun, _no way…_ So what if it felt ridiculously good to have his nipples rubbed and pinched in soft leather gloves? That didn’t _mean_ anything.

“Yeah,” she said, her hot breath brushing over his skin and sending his blood south, “you _so_ do.”

“I do _not_.” Peeves turned his head away from her low, sensual voice. He bit his lip when she pulled one nipple just a little harder than normal.

“Well that makes this easy, then, doesn’t it?” She teased, scooting the chair up closer to the desk by her heels. Still stroking his skin with one hand, she pulled the last picture in front of them. “Tell me about this.”

It was the locked room. She’d taken a photo of both pieces of furniture, right before they left. “What about it?”

Dandrane slid her hand over his hip. Oh. Oh _no_. She was inching her way towards his open fly. “You know damn well what,” she growled, pressing her palm against his chest so he’d lean back into her more. The tips of her fingers were disappearing under the edge of his trousers. “It was locked, and you managed to open it. I want to know how.”

“W-what if I don’t want to tell?”

The witch’s hand slid further, making his blood rush harder, and all she had to do was touch the base and he wanted desperately for her to free him so he could touch her. “You’re already this hard,” she chided playfully, cupping his erection in her leather-clad hand. The poltergeist had to jam his tongue against his teeth to stop from making a noise at the delicious sensation rushing through him like wildfire. His fingers dug into the armrests slightly. “If I stroke you too much, you’ll come too early, won’t you...” Her hand retracted, and in one quick shove she pushed his trousers down, his member practically springing free. “Lucky for us, I’ve got a solution to that.”

Peeves almost wanted to whine when she took her hand completely away to fish something out of her pocket. At least the other one was playing with his nipple again, making lazy circles around the sensitive bud. He turned his head to look at her, and she smirked back, soon holding up a green flexible ring the size of a galleon.

He couldn’t help but watch as she brought it over the tip of his cock. “You _do_ want to come, right, Peeves?”

It was a teasing question. She knew the answer already. “Yeah,” he said in a small voice. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Yeah, I thought so. You know what this is?” He didn’t, and she knew that, too. She rolled it over and onto his dick, barely letting the leather glove brush him, and he felt all his muscles tighten as it squeezed gently around the very base. “It’s a magic cock ring. Automatically adjusts to any size dick in the universe, and keeps it juuust right so you don’t come so fast.”

Dandrane wrapped her hand around his length, and he almost cried out from that alone. He couldn’t help but lean harshly against her, tossing his head onto her shoulder. For all of magic, he wanted her to pump him fast. Instead, she began stroking him slowly, never touching the reddish-purple head.

“Of course, that’s not _all_ it does,” she said, her voice as soft and sensual as velvet as she decided to lean over him, forcing him to sit up straight. He felt her tongue flick over his earlobe and trail slowly up to the tip - he moaned softly behind shut eyelids, feeling his cock harden further. “You know those sensations you feel right now? That wonderful blood-pumping pleasure coursing through the veins of your cock?”

Shit, he was _loving_ this. He didn’t know if she really _did_ dirty talk before, and he certainly didn’t know how it felt to be on the receiving end until now. “Yeah,” he answered in a strained sort of tone, wishing she’d touch him harsher and relieve some the energy she’d had a hand in building up.

“I’m feeling that, too, thanks to its companion piece sitting in my cunt,” she purred, “but unlike you, I can hold out for _much_ longer before begging for mercy.”

He wanted to say he wouldn’t beg, but Dandrane pushed his foreskin back, and the second she started stroking his head he knew that was an outright lie. He was completely unable to hold back the deep groan in his throat, despite trying to quiet it by keeping his mouth shut.

Her body was so warm, the leather was so soft, and he was so fucking _hot_ he didn’t think he could bear it for long. Her hand was burning him, her mouth had scorched every place it touched, and her words sent arousal pumping through him as fast as lightning. He couldn’t help but gasp when she decided to stroke him at a much faster tempo and simultaneously pinched and pulled at his nipple. He stretched out into her hands, leaning back as far as possible, no longer caring if he had any semblance of dignity or pride or whatever. He didn’t care what she did to him, as long as she didn’t -

Dandrane suddenly took her hands away to leave them resting on his thighs. Peeves stared at them in disbelief. She _stopped_.

“Now then, how did you unlock that door?” She asked somewhat breathily. She was turned on, too, now that he concentrated on it - he could feel familiar magic press against him.

He turned to look at her. Her cheeks were flushed, there was a smile on her lips, and her dark lenses flashed candlelight at him. “ _What?_ ”

“I won’t continue until you answer,” she smiled down at him.

“D-don’t _stop_ on me!” He exclaimed, unable to quit staring at her. She was nuts. She actually stopped him from having an orgasm - and her too, if she could really feel what he did - just to ask a stupid _question_.

“Then you should hurry up and answer, shouldn’t you?” Her index finger nudged the flared part of his cock’s head, sending a shock of pleasure straight into his core. She shifted slightly under him. “You should, you know. You’ve been built up for days now, haven’t you?”

She gave him one single stroke and he bit his lip to retain the shudder.

“This should be easy for you to handle, since you clearly _don’t_ have a leather fetish,” she taunted.

“Fu-Fuck you,” he stammered, feeling his face grow warm all on it’s own as he avoided her dark penetrating stare.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve been teasing me since day one because you want to fuck me. That’d be something - I don’t _normally_ have a thing for short-stacks like you, but I have to admit-” she paused to give him a nice deep stroke that sent a jolt to his heart, ending with her thumb rolling over a drop of pre-cum - “you’re cock’s pretty fun to play with. I’d definitely _consider_ fucking you.”

Peeves knew part of this was just game-banter, but he knew a genuine compliment when he heard one. She was really having fun with all this, getting into the part and playing the game. He wanted to come, and he wanted to come in her hands as soon as possible, but she wanted that, too, just with a cherry on top of their orgasm-sundae. He had to play for them both to win. “The key was jammed in the lock,” he answered with some strain. At least the answer didn’t involve anything too complex. He’d didn’t know what he’d do if it had to involve explaining math or complex wards.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Had to wiggle it and force it to turn. _Alohomora_ or any unlocking charm wouldn’t have worked while it was in there.”

“If it was that simple, why not just say so?”

‘ _Why didn’t you tell me earlier’, in other words_. He grinned up at her, feeling mischievous. “It’s fun to see you desperate.”

“I guess that’s something we have in common,” Dandrane said with a wolfish sort of grin, rolling her finger over the sensitive hole and pushing it around like she was toying with a pencil, “but you’re _way_ more desperate than I am.” The poltergeist wanted to just tilt his hips up so she’d get the message to stroke instead of tease... “I mean, just _look_ at you.”

The witch cupped his balls with her other hand, squeezing lightly enough to make his cock twitch, and Peeves heard the pathetic little squeal he gave.

“Here you’ve had ample opportunities to escape,” she taunted as she pushed his penis’ head around in circles and massaged his sack in a sort of rhythm, “and you don’t even _try_ . Your legs aren’t even tied down - you could’ve kicked the desk or tried to knock my chair out the window.” Fuck, he knew he was drooling. He wanted to come _so bad_ . She was right, of _course_ she was, he could’ve made pathetic attempts to struggle but what was the point when he just wanted to touch her somehow? “You know what I think?”

She spread his legs with both hands. He didn’t care, he wanted more, he’d take _anything_.

“I think you’ve _wanted_ me to capture you.” One hand stroked the underside of his length with just the tip of her fingers, the other hand disappearing underneath his trousers and skating over his bare thigh. “I think you - what’s that word you Brits use when you have a massive boner for someone? Fancy?” He felt another gloved finger brush over his anus. Even he couldn’t hold back the little noise he gave - it was a bizarre, surprising, yet not-unwanted sort of sensation. “Yeah, that’s it. I think you _fancy_ me,” she teased, tracing circles around his asshole, “and it’s made you so _desperate_ ,” she purred lowly in his ear, making him wish she could kiss him as hard as possible, “that you’ll let me do anything at all to you.” She pushed her finger in slightly as she grasped his shaft completely and started to stroke.

“You got me, Phlegmy,” Peeves muttered as his balls tightened slightly. “It’s a fair cop.”

He could practically _hear_ her smirk. “Damn right.”

Her nose buried in his hair, and her hand began stroking a lot faster. He could hear the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin among her breathy pants in his ear. The finger at his anus didn’t go all the way inside - it lingered just at the cusp, choosing to rub over the skin as the pleasure built inside of him even more and more and _holy fucking shit_ where on _Earth_ did she get her ideas?! He could feel her magic pressing against his back, she was squirming underneath him like she really _was_ feeling what he was, the only thing that could send him higher was to kiss her so hard their lips bruised and he wouldn’t able to stop tasting her magic for _days..._

Peeves felt the muscles in his arms and legs tighten along with his cock, and Dandrane’s final squeeze at the base of his shaft made him come in spurts. He couldn’t but watch himself ejaculate in her hand, so hot and so fascinating and so _weird,_ even as Dandrane had gone stiff under him, her legs trembling slightly under his as she gave something that sounded like _gurk!_ into his hair.

He thought they’d slump together afterward, both exhausted, but no - Peeves’ bonds disappeared the second he’d stopped shooting spunk everywhere, and she moved them both so fast he hardly any time to process it when she took hold of his face with her cum-speckled leather-clad hands and practically devoured his lips with hers. Their tongues sought each other desperately, but their hurried friction soon slowed into a steady rhythm until the witch pulled away, needing to breathe.

Dandrane was radiant. She was flushed almost red, her lips were swollen and glossy, the magic oozing from her unrestrained was incredibly satisfying. “How was that?”

“‘Mazing.”

She chuckled, pulling off her sunglasses and propping them in-between the spikes of her hair, like always. “So good you removed an ‘a’? I must be _really_ good.”

“I’d have given you an ‘Outstanding’ if it ended with us having sex on top of your desk,” he joked, leaning against her and watching the candlelight dance in her too-blue eyes.

“So I’m taking you like a bit of scene-play?”

“ _No_ , I absolutely _loathed_ playing a captured criminal messing with a gorgeous member of law enforcement,” he said with a roll of his eyes and an even bigger grin. “Come on, Danny, I would’ve pulled the safe word if I didn’t like it. You worked in some interesting dialogue for your part... I would’ve told you all that stuff eventually, though, you know that, right? I mean, either way, I’m glad I agreed to the whole ‘interrogation’ thing,” he commented somewhat dreamily, swinging his legs slowly in his makeshift seat. “Though I did wonder if that wasn’t your real wand… It wasn’t, was it?”

“Sorry, I’m a little hung up on the afterglow and the fact that you think I’m gorgeous,” she smiled, leaning against her hand with a rather admiring gaze. “What was the question?”

He huffed playfully, even as his heart skipped. “Did you actually point your wand at me?”

Her playful smile became very devilish indeed. “It’d ruin the suspense if I told you.”

Peeves felt the shiver from earlier return, but despite the potential danger a real wand at his head posed, he couldn’t deny the fact that as long as she was the one holding it, it turned him on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been keeping off Tumblr for 3+ weeks as to help motivate me to just sit down finish chapters, as it’s very distracting to look at my dash at work and I’ve been finding it increasingly difficult to write on the weekends for some reason. Writing this story isn’t boring (far far from it) but I get frustrated when I can’t find any motivation or think up any ideas for how to phrase things, so I have a horrible tendency to just nope out of doing it altogether and fuck around on people’s blogs instead with the excuse of trying to find inspiration somewhere. I’ve been able to channel the need to write with the need to think about something that would inspire me into something different-but-samey - shorts! I actually found myself with 5 short stories that I’ve written when I wanted to explore a character/idea (no matter how vague) and wanted to get those little gray cells going to help pump myself up for whatever I was struggling with. About 1.5 of them deal with the AGTF universe and the rest fit nicely in HP canon, and a lot of it regards our little poltergeist. I’m not sure if you guys would _want_ to read them or not… So I set up a simple Google poll: [edit - LINK TERMINATED! Thanks for voting!]
> 
> I limited it to one fill-out per person, and you cannot edit your response, so you will need to sign into your google/gmail account to do it. **This is completely private - no one will be able to see your Gmail addresses or names, not even me!** This poll has only 4 questions, so please take it!! Naturally, I’ll remove this link/part of the Notes later on, once I end up posting chapter 17. **If you don't have/want a Google account, please tell me whether you'd be interested in my one-shots in the comment section on this chapter!**
> 
> In other things to talk about - how about that Shrieking Shack, eh? Surely begs the question how many other so-called haunts in Magical Britian/UK are legit… Yeah, I mean in canon, too! “Most Haunted Places of Britain” my ass! We’ll never really know what the Shack was used for in-between construction and Lupin’s time, but I figured I’d throw some ideas out there. (＾∀ﾟ)ъ
> 
> I had lotttts of fun writing the “interrogation” scene. How did you guys like it? I teased it last time, and it sounded like so much fun to write… I almost didn’t, since we had a hand-job-centered scene before, until I realized that it’s my own damn story, who cares if it’s another hand-job as long it’s hot?? I made sure to mix it up a lot, though, to set it apart from the previous one; Danny has an orgasm as well this time, thanks to the miracle of magical sex toys, and we actually got a kink scene! Huzzah!! And you know, are you supposed to write people orgasming as “cumming” or “coming”? I’ve seen both over the years, but I only ever see the singular “cum” used for when they’re describing the person’s fluids, and I think that makes sense, but I don’t like using the word “cumming”, myself, as I don’t think “cum” looks right in that context. I wonder if it really is just a preference people have…


	17. A Crack, a Whiz, and a Bang

Dandrane gnawed at the end of her pencil, staring at the yellow legal pad in front of her as she tried to decipher the jumbled-up handwriting. She knew her handwriting was erratic when she got excited, but after she had written a whole page of scribbly words about the Shrieking Shack, her legibility seemed to have dwindled into that of an eight-year-old’s on speed.

_That’s it, I’m never, ever,_ ever _writing theory while drunk ever again._

It was her own fault, she supposed. She and Peeves had gotten a little carried away on New Year's Eve - she remembered getting several bottles of champagne from the kitchen, and both of them drinking the hour up to the new year away and writing everything they could about the Shack down (including some very mocking purple prose about the house; there was a comment about it being like soggy cereal somewhere in the middle of her notes), and eventually Peeves set off some of the fireworks that she had given him for Christmas from one of the towers sometime after midnight. She remembered the bitter cold air up there, and recalled it being ridiculously empty, but she didn’t remember anything about how they got _back_ from there. The only other thing she did remember was waking up fully-clothed on the couch with Peeves half on top of her, nuzzled against her like a koala.

It’d been a couple of days since. In that time, she realized kids would be coming back to school on Monday and had quickly set about grading the exams as efficiently as possible, remembering to actually take breaks this time around, and spent those hours wandering the castle, writing down landmarks for notable rooms and passageways accompanied by whatever tape she felt like listening to that day. Some of the time Peeves was with her, being the one to drag her away from her desk in the first place. Others she was by herself, running into him by coincidence only once, while he was talking quietly to Nearly-Headless Nick - or rather, the ghost was talking quietly and the poltergeist wasn’t bothering to restrain his voice. She figured they must’ve been talking about her, what with Peeves noticeably seeing her around the corner through the ghost’s torso and joking loudly about Nick needing to speak up, as the ghost’s vocal cord was cut in half.

“ _Those_ are new.”

_Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear,_ she thought with a smile. _I wish just thinking about him made that happen more often._ Peeves was on his back, head tilted curiously as he stared at the framed photos on her desk. “Hello to you too, babe. Rare to see you around this early in the morning.”

Peeves was still rather focused on the photographs. In particular, he was looking at the Christmas card her parents had sent before she left. Just _thinking_ about the literal pile of mail that the village Post Office had failed to deliver to her until she had marched down there the other day was making her blood boil.

_Calm down, Danny. Just look at the kitties. Adorable, adorable kitties._ Dandrane focused on the framed card, with it’s large _Merry Christmas_ written in classy cursive above the picture - her anger dissipated a little. She still couldn’t believe her Dad had managed to get all of the cats in the room at the same time, let alone get them all to crowd around him and her Mom. _Ha ha, a true Christmas miracle!_

Peeves flipped himself around and picked the frame up to examine it closer. “Is this a weird American thing? Sending pictures of yourself as cards?”

“Sometimes. Pretty sure everybody does.”

“These are your _parents_ , right?” He asked, staring at her with a somewhat subdued grin.

“Yup. Got Mom’s boring hair and Dad’s eyes and cheekbones. Don’t know _where_ the height and flat chest came from, though.”

“ _Knew_ he looked familiar… Cats must be extended family, then?” he joked.

“Well, you’re not _wrong_ \- the giant Maine Coon sitting on the back of the couch is technically my Godfather.”

Peeves did a double-take, fixing his stare at the fluffy brown cat with the gentle greenish-yellow eyes. “Why didn’t he just transform back? There’s more than enough room!”

Dandrane grinned - confusion looked so cute on him... “He’s not an animagus or anything, babe. He’s just a very big Maine Coon that followed us home one day. His full name is Godfather Frey. Isn’t he cute?” She couldn’t help but look at the picture again. He might’ve been purring in the photo, judging by his content expression. “I don’t have a real Godfather, since the intended Uncle disappeared a few days before I was born, so when we found Frey my Dad joked that the cat was my Godfather instead. It kind of stuck after that, since Frey treats all the cats my Dad fosters as his own kids.”

“You’re Dad doesn’t keep _kitten plates_ , does he?” He asked with an uncomfortable grimace.

“Like the decorative things you can’t eat off of? He’s more into mugs.”

Peeves looked very strange, indeed. He was rarely serious. “Is he like _you_?”

“I guess? I mean, he did raise me the most, considering Mom worked six days a week… Why?”

“Just checking,” he said casually, looking satisfied and darting his attention to the other photos as he placed the first one down with a _clunk_. “So who are _they_?”

Dandrane narrowed her eyes. What was he up to? Why was it so important that her father was like her and didn’t keep decorative plates? _He must’ve known someone who liked those… They were definitely nastier than me, with the_ _look he had._ That was an easy-to-remember question for later. He probably would’ve mentioned it if it was something he felt like talking about before. Best to just go with the flow of the conversation.

The witch pulled one of her other frames forward - it was her in Beatrice’s cabin, the whole gang huddled together in a sort of front-line hug in the wooden-paneled kitchen. “These are my old friends from school - you’ll recognize Florette at the end there, with Kay. The cute chubby guy between Flo and me is Sivoy - I’m surprised he hasn’t cut his hair, he used to wear nothing but buns and ponytails when we were in school, because he hated the no-short-hair rule they had for a long time. I think I mentioned him before; he’s a potioneer’s apprentice and a baker - he’s actually the reason I passed the last half of my potion classes, despite being two years my junior.”

Peeves grinned. “You’re bad at _potions_?” He snickered, his eyes sparkling. “I thought Aurors had to be _good_ at those.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t cook too well, either, so I think it’s just kind of natural that I can only make potions up to a certain skill-level.” _And that I had to resort to cheating on the official test._ “So Jill’s the cute short-cake over at the other end, there, with the super-red waves - she’s a nurse, and also the sweetest person on the face of this Earth. Her crappy Healer-husband Jack couldn’t make it, so he’s not pictured, but if for some God-forsaken reason you ever meet him, you have my permission to trip him at every opportunity.”

“Be _happy_ to, Danny,” he said with a bat of his lashes, “though I am curious as to _why_.”

“He’s made a few off-color remarks about Flo and Beat not being straight, so we all agreed he’s a huge dick, despite what Jill says. Speaking of Beatrice, though, that’s her,” Dandrane said cheerfully, pointing to the long-haired blonde with her beefy arm draped around Dandrane’s shoulders. “That’s her kitchen we’re standing in, actually, we met up the day before Christmas Eve, since she was going to spend that with her boyfriend’s family.”

“She’s huge!” Peeves exclaimed, grinning all the same. “She could burst through _walls_!”

“Well, that’s why she became a lumber-jane, actually. She’s lifted whole trees by herself.”

“She’s taller than _you_!” He laughed. “You’ve got some group…” Peeves pointed to another photo, right on the middle of Lonny’s Hawaiian shirt. “So who’s the guy next to you in this one, then?”

Dandrane put her the kitchen-group-photo back carefully, making sure it was exactly where she had left it before, right next to the decade-old picture of Sabrina and Frey on her parent’s porch. “That’s Lonny - if Beat’s my first best friend, then he’s the second. He was the History teacher at the school in Maine - guy’s _super_ jealous I got to come here, you know? I’ve been teasing him about it for ages… Oh, I sent the furniture photos out to him, by the way, so it’ll be a while before I get a response, but he’s _the_ guy to ask about that stuff. He’s also getting a cut.”

“Speaking of history,” Peeves interjected, “‘ve been thinking.”

She was a little annoyed that he didn’t ask any other questions, but he obviously had something he wanted to say, so she let it slide. “A dangerous pastime,” she joked, leaning on her elbow and enjoying the humored sparkle he got to his gaze.

“I decided. I’ll show you my room,” he finished with the air of someone bearing a grand gift.

Well that was a surprise. Dandrane kind of expected to have to go hunt for it herself, as she had suggested the other day when they were in the heat of things. “Look at you, being all _generous_. What brought that on? Late visit from the Christmas spirit?”

He rolled his eyes, but he still seemed amused by the tasteless joke. “‘Ve seen _your_ room,” he said with a grin, “so I thought it only _fair_. ‘Sides, it was where I found that book by what’s-his-name. Who _knows_ what else might be in there?”

Dandrane shoved the poorly-written notes aside and grabbed the notebook she’d been using to keep track of the different halls and rooms. “Well, I’m sold. Let’s go!”

The halls were still freezing, but ever since the break started, it seemed to grow worse by the day. The damp from the freezing rain had gone, at least. “So what floor are we going to?” Dandrane asked, trying to guess where his place would be. Certain floors were more crowded with people than others. The dungeons was unlikely, as well as the kitchen area of the lower part of the castle. It seemed the bottom floors were right out, considering the number of classrooms in use down there…

“Six. You remember which floor you’re on _now_ , right?” He asked with a cheeky grin.

“ _No_ , I can’t remember the floor to my own _office_ ,” Dandrane remarked with complete sarcasm. “If we have to go up four floors, is there a passage around here, or do we have to take the stairs? I only wrote down those two…”

Peeves peeked at her notepad, curious. “Only two? Wow, you missed the biggest one.”

“How many secret staircases does this floor fucking _need_?”

The poltergeist beside her giggled, but flew along anyway, and she knew she was supposed to follow closely. “You’d be surprised, Danny,” he said, his voice echoing a little, “we have a hundred and fifty-two sets of stairs, you know. They can’t all be out in the open.”

_A hundred and fifty-two? Ugh. How do any of the younger kids find their way around?_ “Peeves,” she muttered behind him, keeping in stride, “don’t call me Danny in the halls.”

“No one’s about, you know.”

“Not that we can _see_ ,” she pressed gently, and he glanced behind him to meet her gaze. He didn’t have any qualm about passing through objects or walls partway. “I just want to be careful.”

“Fine,” he answered a little begrudgingly. “You making a map, there, Phlegmy?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Dandrane flicked her eyes around the hall, noticing the familiar paintings that were up ahead. “I know the castle is meant to be unplottable and all, but I don’t understand why you guys don’t have some basic layouts written anywhere. I mean, it’s the modern age, it’s not like a rival castle or country is going to try and invade you. Why keep it what wing the Arithmancy classroom is in such a secret? It doesn’t make any sense…”

The little man leaned so far back that his feet were flying first. “You really underestimate this, don’t you?”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“‘S _fear_ , Phlegmy. You’re not the first person to bring up making a map, you know, someone suggested it right before ol’ Moldy-mort started his little club. Problem _is_ , some folk here still remember the battles with armies of knights over land disputes. _I_ still do, matter of fact,” he grinned widely. “Even Dumbledore was against the idea. Felt it best the kiddies learned the castle as they went. Their new home, after all.” They turned around a corner, passing a gleaming suit of armor that hadn’t been at the corner - or even that hallway - yesterday. Peeves turned himself upright again, resting the back of his head in his hands. “Good thing, too, else Death Eaters would’ve known some good hiding spots a few years ago.”

There was no arguing against something like that. Well, there could be an argument that it was, in fact, almost six years since the war and any power-hungry magical people looking to become the next magical-Sith-Lord were being squashed like flies before they could gain much track, but it was a waste. He had a point, and a very good one, even if it felt ridiculous to not even put up basic labels for classrooms near the staircases. Then again, it seemed classrooms changed often enough over the years. Trelawney had told her about how stuffy and boring the old Divination classroom was over tea the other day, and even Horace had mentioned how his quarters had changed places since his coming out of retirement.

“Yeah, good point,” she said, truly meaning it as Peeves shuffled them towards a bust of a bug-eyed man on a pedestal and pressed its nose. “Still going to make a map for myself, though. I wouldn’t have so much trouble if everything didn’t move around so damn much. And look the same. And the paintings were more helpful.”

Peeves seemed to freeze for a second, shooting her a look as the wall behind the bust swept away like a curtain. “Paintings don’t tell you where to go?”

“Some do. There’s a short knight up near Trelawney’s tower that’s always pointed me the right way, and the painting of that former nurse near the Hospital Wing was nice, but a lot either gave me the vaguest answers possible or told me they weren’t sure. I had one painting tell me exactly where something was, but the guy was so rude about it I actually considered bringing paint-remover back with me. I stopped asking them ages ago.”

“When did you _first_ ask one?”

The staircase was a winding one, but it wasn’t as steep as some of the others, though it was narrow enough only for one person to go at a time. Dandrane scribbled the bust’s name on her notepad and followed Peeves, trying to think. She’d asked the weird knight for directions pretty early in the year. She mainly asked people wandering around about where to go for certain things… “The first time I got mislead was mid-October.”

Peeves floated in front of her, arms folded over his chest and shoulders looking a little stiffer than usual. _At least I get to enjoy the view,_ Dandrane thought as her gaze wandered to his butt. She had an urge to grope him. Maybe pinch him. _Does he squeal when he’s pinched, too?_

“I don’t like it,” Peeves muttered to himself, and Dandrane nearly jumped, thinking for a second he knew what she was thinking. He mumbled something like “petty bitch”. Then squeaked loudly when the witch decided to pinch anyway.

He dipped backwards, stopping in his midair tracks, frowning slightly despite the embarrassed purple tinge to his face. “What was _that_ for?!”

Dandrane grinned back at him. “Because you’re cute,” she said quietly, hoping the exit of the secret passage wasn’t an open hole, “and you need to relax. I’m here to see your room, not get caught up in a silly conspiracy about whether or not someone told the paintings to lead me astray.”

He seemed surprised, like she had read his mind exactly. She’d thought about it herself, and mid-October was about when Peeves had that first Ghost Council meeting; it certainly made sense, but she also suspected that the paintings had seen her get along well with Peeves and disliked her on principle for that. Or it was just another case of distrusting foreigners. Peeves seemed to slump a little, and turned back around with a small smile. “Right you are, Phlegmy. Right you are. But no pinching.”

“Ruin my fun, why don’t ya,” she chuckled. There was a ton of stairs to march up, and she could feel her calves growing uncomfortable from the strain. Despite weeks of walking up and down enormous sets of stairs, there were still days where it seemed like all her legs wanted to do was stop halfway and hope someone carried her up. She often envied Peeves’ ability to float wherever and whenever he liked. “How do you do that?”

“Look devilishly attractive? Comes _natural_ ,” he beamed over his shoulder.

“I figured that. I meant how do you just...float everywhere? Is it like the phasing thing, where you just have to think about it?”

“Yup!”

“Lucky.”

He turned. “Sure am. Least you can use a wand,” he pointed to her arm, where the holster was hidden up her sleeve.

Dandrane felt a scowl threaten to form. Fat lot of good a wand did her when she was trying to fly… “Do you have to tilt yourself in a certain direction to move?”

“Mostly. Whole thing’s more like flexing a bit of muscle.”

That made sense. Using magic without a wand felt like that. _He must concentrate all of it in one part to move forward. Interesting… I wonder if that’s how those couple of Death Eaters managed to do it? I_ still _wonder how they figured that out…_

“Finally getting back to researching me, hm?” He teased with a grin. “‘Bout time.”

“You’re acting like I _stopped_ ,” Dandrane grinned back. “All the stuff we were looking into had to do with you, too, you know. You and ghosts are related just as much as you and Dementors.”

They finally reached the top of the stairs, which seemed to just be a wall pretending to be a wall. It was like looking through a sandy two-way mirror. On the other side, though, when Dandrane looked, it looked just like a normal wall; there was nothing in the area to indicate that an opening was ever there. She was surprised there was no tapestry or super-sized portrait over it. There wasn’t anything on the other side of the hall, either. Just one long empty hallway, partway down from the corner.

It was rather brilliant.

Peeves kept still, seeming to try and hear something down the hall. His eyes were sharp and alert.

She knew better than to ask aloud, so she tried to sense whatever he was, too. It was dead quiet, but she couldn’t hear anything. Or smell anything, or see anything. _He did mention he could sense the auras of people when they weren’t all clustered together. Someone must be down the hall somewhere._

“Phlegmy,” he muttered, grinning slightly, “hold tight.”

She was about to ask why, but the next thing she knew she was being lifted from her waist and made to hover an inch above the floor as she was dragged backwards in the air, turning the corner (she saw several doors flying past her , one of which was for Horace’s office, and mentally reminded herself to go south down this hall and run her hand in the middle of the wall past the corner to find the stairs) and down to the very end near the window, where she was sure there had been a suit of armor with an axe earlier that week. There were two doors, and a blank space of wall at the end.

Dandrane’s boots touched the ground again and Peeves stared at the blank part of the wall opposing the doors.

“You know, I didn’t think about it, but I don’t know how you’re going to get in.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’ve got that covered,” Dandrane replied, still feeling strange from the sudden ride. He _did_ say it didn’t have a door. Dandrane pulled the thin black pouch from her pocket, and unzipped it, revealing four colorful glass vials. Generic antidote, serious-wound sealant, invisibility potion, and -

“Is that Wall-Passing Solution?”

“Yes, and yes.” Downing it took a second, but the after-taste was always awful - like coating the entire tongue in overcooked brussel sprouts. She couldn’t help but shudder at it, but she at least managed not to wrinkle her nose in disgust this time. It was always strange seeing her body glow temporarily, too, and she couldn’t help but stare a little every time. She blinked hard, trying to shake the weird feeling that always sunk into her gut when she drank the stuff. “Lead the way.”

Taking her at her word, Peeves grasped her elbow and led her through the wall, and Dandrane immediately regretted not thinking to use a Bubble-Head charm. There was no window, no light, and undoubtedly no air.

She fumbled for her wand as fast as possible, trying to hold her breath just in case, as her poltergeist-boyfriend raised a brow. He didn’t need to breathe. He must not have thought about her needing to.

The bubble of fresh air grew over her head, and she thought she had never exhaled and inhaled faster.

“You okay?”

Dandrane inhaled deep. “Warn me next time you take me to a room with no openings, babe.”

“...oops,” he said sheepishly, with an equally sheepish grin. “Forgot that.”

“It’s alright,” she waved off; she couldn’t really fault him for forgetting. Another wand-wave and a ball of orangish light flew into the center of the room, illuminating the piles of miscellaneous things on his floor.

It was, quite honestly, like seeing a large storage locker with ancient tapestries on the walls. Only instead of keeping things in boxes, Peeves kept them in stacked piles.  

“Wow, I’m surprised you actually organized it.”

He snickered. “ _Your_ method of organizing, maybe. I mostly put things in piles with _similar_ things.”

“Yeah, but you have it all stacked on top of each other. I just throw my shit into one spot and try to remember where I put it later. You’ve seen my bookcase - it’s not like it’s in any kind of order, you know.”

Speaking of, Peeves had more books. Dandrane wasted no time in examining the pile - a lot of them were surprisingly old, despite looking alright. There were some seedier books she had seen in the restricted section of the library, and some even darker works she didn’t know they had ever allowed in any school. A couple were unlabeled, and Dandrane didn’t want to risk messing up the whole pile to find what was inside (and they might have been cursed, or at least one of those stupid books that yelled at you if you opened it). Two or three she only knew were out of print because Sivoy had mentioned something like them before. “Wow, you kept a copy of _Speaking with the Dead_? That edition looks old as _balls_.”

Peeves laughed by his pile of unbroken pranking tools. There were clearly-labeled packages of basic things like itching powder and Confusion Solution, but there were quite a few mysterious brightly-colored boxes with a _Weasley Wizard Wheezes_ logo. A whole box of what must have been trick wands (some looking much older than others) sat on the top of the pile next to the box of fireworks she’d given him for Christmas. He seemed to still have a few, as she saw the tail-end of one of the bigger rockets in the package sticking out.

“Updated one’s shit,” he replied, playing with a very colorful yo-yo that at one point must’ve been able to scream, judging by the _AAAAH!!_ painted inside a spiky word balloon on it. “Actually _read_ that one.”

“Really? What’d you think of it?”

“ _Boring_ ,” he grinned, his eyes sparkling in the orange-tinted light, “You’ve got a better thing going than that.”

“Why keep it, then?”

“Banned years ago. Plus Nicky’s in it - he was in Spain for a summer.”

Dandrane smiled to herself. The poltergeist always acted annoyed whenever he mentioned the five-hundred-year-old ghost, but he actually seemed to like the guy. Maybe, at the end of the day, Peeves did actually like a lot of the castle ghosts. They were company, after all, and Peeves was at the very least _kinda_ related to them. “So what’s with the foreboding chair over there in the corner?”

Peeves turned to where she was pointing. “Ooh! You _have_ to see this!”

The witch stepped carefully, making sure to avoid breaking something at the bottom of one of the piles or tripping. The chair in question was elegantly carved and dark, with deep green velvety cloth for the seat and the back. The carvings were fierce looking beast heads for the arms and a monstrous face in the center of the top, with the legs looking like lion feet. It wouldn’t have been out of place on the set of _The Addams Family_.

“Watch this!” Peeves said excitedly, pressing something under the closest arm. Metal bands materialized out of the arms to quickly snap over the armrests and the legs, quite close to where the ankles and wrists would be if someone was sitting formally. He laughed to himself, as if it was a great joke. “It gets me every time! And it gets better!”

A knob on the top of the chair was quickly twisted, and somewhat dull-looking spikes appeared out of nowhere, tearing the material.

It was actually pretty cool, even if she did wonder why it wasn’t in a museum somewhere for magical dark objects. No doubt the fabric would seal itself once the spikes were lowered. “Wow, who even _owned_ this thing?”

“Can’t recall the name,” he said in a sort of teasing voice, “Old Headmaster, I think. Probably used it on students.”

Dandrane felt queasy at the thought. They might have been different times, but literally torturing kids for punishment was never a remotely okay thing to do. “Hope those kids killed his rotten ass.”

Peeves grinned fondly. “They might have. I know a few that died ‘mysteriously’. Wouldn’t be surprised.”

Well, even if it was a lie, it was much more comforting to think of. The knowing look he had in his eyes made her think he was actually serious about it… _Nah,_ he _wouldn’t kill them. He’s not the type. It’d be a waste of magic._

“Speaking of mysteries, what’s with all the tapestries?”

“They’re _Hogwarts_ tapestries, Danny. That one,” he pointed to the very faded one in the very center of the back wall, “is the first one that ever flew over the Great Hall.”

“Well that’s neat - and I like the one that actually has a hog’s head on it - but why is it in here? Shouldn’t it be in the Armory or Trophy Room, where everyone can see it?”

Peeves laughed, sounding not unlike a cartoon villain. “Because it’s _mine,_ Danny! Finders, keepers. ’M not letting anybody else get to even _glimpse_ it - ‘cept you. And no one would _ever_ believe you if you said that Hogwarts notorious Master of Pranks and All Things Chaotic saved every single banner design the school ever _had_. They’d think you were _mad_.”

“Not like I’d tell anyone that anyway, but haven’t the other ghosts seen these? I mean, they must come through here when they look for you.”

“They need at least a candle to see _anything_.”

Ghosts didn’t have night vision - good, easy thing to remember. It made sense, in a way she hadn’t entirely figured out yet. But that’s what brainstorming was for. And it was going to be hard to do that in a room full of forbidden collectibles when Peeves was giving her _that_ look.

“ _God_ , you’re cute. How did I land such a handsome thieving fucker?”

His giggle dissolved into a kind of snort. “Letting me sit on your lap was your first mistake.”

They wandered over to his pile of broken instruments next. He had all manner of dark detectors, and very broken spying tools, including what appeared to be a shattered communication mirror. And, laying on it’s side in a very ornate golden frame - “Is that the _Foe Glass_?!”

It was hilarious to see in person. It was broken right in the middle, rather like her bathroom mirror when Peeves had used her wand. Someone had tried to repair it - just as her predecessor Bartlett had implied in his letter - but the spiderweb of cracks was obvious, being a darker colored glass  than the rest of the mirror. She could see a couple of dark blobs far away in the glass. Bartlett’s enemies, or Peeves’? She wasn’t quite sure how the ownership of such objects passed down if they were stolen. She was pretty sure they should be Peeves’, but it had been broken, so -

“Don’t spend too long looking in there,” he nudged her, beaming proudly, “they’ve been like that since I broke it.”

“Any idea who they are?”

“Pfft, nah. Don’t care, either.”

“What’s in the chest?” She pointed towards the only thing that remotely looked like a box in the room, sitting next to a pile of what looked like old Hufflepuff tapestries, judging by the yellow and black striped cloth.

“I’ll be honest with you, Danny,” he said, looking dead serious as he took a pause, “I don’t know!” He giggled and flew over to the box, choosing to open it from the side - a wise idea, since if it had a spring trap of some kind in there it would probably got forward or straight up - and…

A dark heap of clothing, covered partially by what looked like a colorful pile of candy packages, a couple of tubes, and the coffin-shaped box she had given him on Halloween.

“Dude, please tell me you ate all the Imps in there.”

Peeves peeked in the little black box, minding the orange ribbon. “Two left,” he grinned. “It’s _safekeeping_ , Danny. ‘S not every day I get a _present_.”

_Damn it man, stop making me want to kiss you! I can’t like this!_ “You’re lucky I made that box preserve them.” Shit, she was trying hard not to be so happy about such a stupid mundane thing. “Really, babe, you just eat them already…”

He actually popped one in his mouth, and got the same look she did when she ate insanely good chocolate. “Still good,” he said happily, little bursts of fire spouting with each word. “Got other stuff, too, but those are the best.”

“What are the tube things?”

Upon closer inspection, it had fluffy paper pull-tabs on each end. They were also faded and slightly crinkly.

“You act like you’ve never seen a Christmas cracker before,” he said smugly, holding one end out towards her, fire continuing to spit in small bursts from his mouth. “Pull it.”

She’d heard of them before, but they were never very popular in the states. Still, she was curious. There had to be more than paper crowns and bad jokes inside, if Peeves looked so excited over it. She yanked the green tail-end, and there was a very loud _CRACK_ followed by a cloud of green smoke that made Dandrane glad she had what was essentially a magic gas mask over her face.

There was a bit of a clatter, and when the smoke cleared, Dandrane saw what looked like a hat fit for a pirate captain and a very pretty champagne flute on the floor. Judging from the shine, it might have been crystal, accented with must have been tarnished silver. _Woah_.

Peeves snatched the hat and swapped it for the belled one on his head before she could ask what just happened. “The upper-crusts really know how to make a cracker, eh?” The poltergeist grinned, adjusting the tri-cornered hat slightly. “Good thing they work, I must have swiped those _years_ ago!”

“You keeping this?” She wiggled the glass in her fingers, itching to just pocket it. She could always use a proper drinking glass. Beat making one out of corks any day.

“Nah! Open another!”

The red cracker held a bottle of expensive-looking wine and a very nice bowler hat that somehow fit Dandrane’s head perfectly. The silver one held a matching champagne flute with slightly less tarnish on it and a live white dove that Peeves had to snatch in the air and chuck into the hallway. The fourth, a pretty gold one, was a total dud, giving them only a piece of paper with the product name in very fancy cursive - at least the _whizz_ noise it made was funny.

The final one, which was very plain, was finally poised between their fingers. “Okay, on three. One -”

“THREE!” Peeves pulled his end, and purple smoke burst forth with a delightful _crack_ , followed by a very audible _clang_ , like someone dropped a skillet on the floor.

A thin sword sat next to an upside-down crown that was fit for a prince. Both were fairly shiny and completely deprived of jewels, but nonetheless Dandrane was seized with the urge to wield both. She reached for the crown first, and the moment she had snatched it in her fingers Peeves noticed it.

“Hey, that’s _mine_!”

“Finder-keepers, babe.”

“It’s my cracker,” he grumbled, glaring up at her. Oh, was he actually mad? _Too bad!_

“You have the badass sword. I don’t see how this is a loss for you,” she smirked, placing the crown over her new bowler hat. “Besides, I totally look better in this.”

Peeves examined the handle of the thin rapier in his fist, a mischievous grin growing on his face. “Alright then, _your Majesty_ ,” he said tauntingly, “if that’s how you want to play” - the pointy end of the sword was suddenly half a foot away from her neck - “then consider this a _robbery_.”

“I’m not giving this to you,” Dandrane said coolly, reasoning that there was no way Peeves would actually stab or slice her. It _had_ to be an empty threat. To say she wasn’t slightly nervous, though, was a huge lie - being on the stabby end of an object _always_ did that. It was just a hat, really, she didn’t _need_ it or anything, but it was something she never in her life had the opportunity to wear before, and the idea of parading around a castle in a crown for a while sounded fun. “You’ll have to win it from me.”

“Ooh, a duel! Even better! But what will you use…?” Peeves turned the sword towards the floor, pretending to lean on it as he and the blade hovered in the air.

“I could just make a copy of that; I doubt I could just waltz into the armory and borrow a sword from a case.”

The poltergeist giggled. “Be funny, though. Good stuff in there.”

Copying objects wasn’t difficult when you’d done it a hundred times. What was hard was making both blades too dull to cut paper - she hadn’t done any fencing since Bayard had it as a course in P.E., and she wasn’t exactly confident she’d do alright. Better safe than sorry.

_It’s just like dueling with wands_ , her old coach had said. _Keep your eyes on your opponent and keep moving._

Right. At least she could copy lightsaber moves if she was really stuck. _Wish I knew how to make my wand a lightsaber. That’d be amazing…_

“Okay, ground rule - no phasing through walls or objects once we leave this room. This potion doesn’t last forever, and it’d be cheating, anyway.”

“Oookaaayyy,” Peeves drew out in a taunting singsong way. “No using your wand, either, Phlegmy. It’s pocket or nothing for it.”

Dandrane rolled her eyes. It wasn’t like she was going to cheat with magic in a _play_ fight. She complied anyway, making it obvious that her wand was shoved in her pants pocket. _Damn pockets, barely ever long enough for wands…_

“Ready?” Peeves posed, looking very eager and as if he’d dueled before.

“Almost.” Dandrane jotted down the location of the staircase and Peeves’ impenetrable room on her notebook, slid it into her other pocket, and wielded the copied sword in what she hoped was the appropriate stance.

“ _En garde_!”

He flew at her, his feet well above the ground but seeming to step like they were on the floor. Dandrane instantly put herself on defense, and the sound of metal clanging together was very much like the ones they used in movies. Peeves was not one to sit still - he drew back and hit again, this time at an angle, and even though she countered, she felt the force of it. She was moving backwards at the same time, trying to find the wall they had come through, and stumbled over the pile of books and landed on her ass, feeling book spines dig into her back.

Peeves cackled, but he still came at her - she rolled away, missing a very sloppy jab at her shoulder. _Very_ sloppy. Either he was distracted by her stupid fall, or he just did it on purpose so she’d have a better chance. Maybe a combination of both.

It didn’t matter, anyway - she jumped at the chance to get one foot in the hallway, keeping her back to the wall and her fencing sword in front of her. Peeves followed, going for an upward sort of slice, and finally, he backed her into the empty hall.

It meant more room to maneuver, and more opportunities to pin the poltergeist against the wall. Much better.

Finally, she could take the offense - she pushed his sword up as hard as she could (which was easier said than done, he better not have been using his supernatural strength to hold it firm!) and made for a jab, which he ducked easily.

“You cheat, you're still floating!”

“Adding rules, are we?” Peeves teased with his usual mischievous grin. “Thought you knew I’d do this, since your dueling a _poltergeist_ an’ all.”

“Yeah right!” Dandrane scoffed as she gave a sideways slash, which he countered as he planted his feet firmly on the ground. “You just didn’t want to be _short_!”

Peeves gave a fiercer jab, which Dandrane had to dodge by moving to the side entirely and sort of twirl around. She didn’t know how he managed to keep his eyes firmly on hers like that the entire time; she found herself unable to stop her eyes from moving all over the place, trying to see how his wrist or shoulder were moving, and watching his expressions to see if he showed any kind of hint to what he would do. He looked and acted very confident, and it was kinda hard to really pay attention to everything when he looked so damn _good_. Watching him was as much of a distraction as it was beneficial.

She took the opportunity to try and hit his shoulder, but he leapt backward, seeming to bounce on his toes. _Damn it, man, hold still for a moment!_

Despite her trouble hitting him at all, she had to admit sword-fighting with him was just plain _fun_. She felt sort of like she was in one of those medieval fantasy movies, where the hero and the villain were facing off in the end-all-be-all duel. It was just missing statues that stayed still and some more dramatic lighting. And maybe a big table to climb onto.

Peeves looked like he was having a ball - his lips were curled into a wild grin and his black eyes were fierce and sparkling with mirth. He kept managing to spin her around so he was the one pushing her further down the hall and around corners, and he actually almost got her arm at one point, seeming to deliberately thrust a little too high to just get her nerves jumping. He was a marvel to watch:  his lithe body moved too smoothly for a human to imitate exactly, his long red coat-tails floated behind him whenever he flew at her or dodged dramatically, and _fuck it all,_ he was _incredibly_ attractive right now.

_If I win, I’m wearing that crown while I screw his brains out._

They continued to thrust, parry, and counter down the hall, seeming to move in circles, as if they were dancing a strange sort of high-energy waltz. All they needed was a musical score.

“You’re _rusty_ , Phlegmy. What’s wrong? Got cobwebs on your hands?” He teased.

“Not on my _hands_ ,” she retorted, sliding out of the way and trying for an upward slice. He dodged, of course. “I think I’m as pent up as you were before I came back,” she said with a wink - then remembered that she still had her glasses on and fought down the embarrassment.

“Yeesh, no wonder your form’s stiff,” he joked, leering and giving her the urge to just shut that cute blue mouth up with her own. “You could’ve said something earlier.”

“I was too pissed about those fucking owls.” She countered honestly as she put up the defense, feeling a gentler recoil from his attack.

“Mail-owls really ruffled your feathers, then?” He snickered. She hated when he laughed like that. It was too cute. She needed a distraction from him, and sword-play wasn’t doing it – but going along with the current anger-inducing subject might...

“More like they pluck them out and shit on them,” Dandrane said, managing to throw him off. “They didn’t know where to deliver a whole stack of letters with the same fucking address!” She swung hard, thinking about the Owl Postman’s simple shrug when she asked why he didn’t just ask the school or deliver them himself. “They sat there for _two weeks!_ ”

Peeves was getting even more pumped up. There was a weird gleam to his eyes as he seemed to struggle to keep her thin blade at bay.

“It read _Hogwarts,_ for Christ’s sake!” She jabbed again, and he dodged, but barely. “How can they _not_ ” - _clang! -_ “know” - _clang!_ \- “where” - _ssshhht_ \- “to _GO_?!”

Their blades clashed hard, and she was leaning over Peeves, feeling her pulse race and face burn at the reminder of the sleepy London Post’s owls, which were supposed to pick up mail from the muggle post office and deliver it to her. The local post office had no idea why they didn’t deliver it. Maybe she wasn’t on the list of known professors, they said. _Bullshit!_

And yet… She wasn’t as mad as before. Still angry, yes, and it seemed to be fueled by the adrenaline of the duel she was in, but somehow she didn’t feel so much blood-pounding rage when she thought about it all. More like just blood-pounding with a dash of frustration. And maybe some lust for the cute blue-with-a-tinge-of-purple face grinning her way.

Ah _._

“Are you _eating_?” She ground out.

“Can’t help it,” he said with a coquettish look, “you’re _pretty_ when you’re angry.” He managed to slip away, and just as she attempted to strike, he ducked, grabbed her arm firmly, and suddenly she was aware that he was closing in and pushing her backwards until she stood flat against the wall - which was a lot closer than expected.

Peeves grinned at her, seeming a combination of flirtatious and menacing. She didn’t know how he managed to do that. “I wiiin,” he sang quietly, tapping her left leg with the thin blade of his rapier.

She didn’t care about that. She cared more about the fact that he was pressed against her, floating in the air just a little below her level, looking way too sultry for his own good. She wanted to grind against him. _Hard_.

He seemed to read her mind on that matter, or maybe she just had _fuck me_ written on her face somewhere, because in the next instant Dandrane found herself being swept away in a heated kiss. Her arms were pinned to the wall by her elbows, her blood was rushing with every move of their lips, and despite the cool body pressed up against her she could feel heat blossom everywhere that wasn’t touching the chilly stone wall. He tasted spicy and sweet, which warmed her tongue and set her taste buds on fire, making her salivate a little more.

Her arms were suddenly free, he grabbed her waist to bring her closer and grind properly, and she vaguely heard the clatter of metal hitting stone. All she focused on was how damn nice it felt to grab him at last, the lovely little moan he made when she pulled him tight against her, and that wonderful heated feel of their magic intermingling together, and the strange feeling of it ebbing away as he consumed it. He didn’t always eat it when they were together – he seemed to like letting it build up.

Not that she would really complain about that. It felt good when they were pressed closer together. Better when she could literally feel how aroused he was.

A sound drifted in her ears, but she could barely register it, Peeves and his damn tasty mouth and funny little noises of pleasure… But it nagged at her. It was something familiar.

Footsteps?

Oh God, they _were_ footsteps.

Peeves either hadn’t heard or cared, because she had to yank hard on his coat-tail to get his attention.

“Hey! What’s the big deal?!”

Fuck it all to hell, he wasn’t keeping quiet. She clamped her hand over his mouth. “ _Shh!_ ”

She heard someone’s voice:  “What was that?”

Dandrane scrambled for her wand, trying to think – there had to be _someplace_ to hide around. But where to find one? She couldn’t just run around checking doors, she’d met one that clamped down on hands if you tried to jerk it open. _This is why I want a fucking map! Empty rooms, bathrooms - hell, I just need a closet to hide in!_

Actually, where _were_ they?

Were they back in the secret staircase hall? Or another empty hall? There was a surprising number of them…

Peeves wasn’t exactly helping. He was standing there, rapier in hand, watching her vanish her copied sword.

“Peeves, where’s a closet?” She asked as quietly as possible while keeping her ears strained for signs of the people getting closer.

“Hm? You need a closet?” He responded casually.

“ _Yes_ , we need a closet! There’s got to be one! Or a classroom or _something_?!”

“Hm,” he pondered, tilting his head with a knowing grin. “Have you checked next to you?”

The witch turned - there _was_ a door next to her. She could have sworn that it hadn’t been there before… How had she missed seeing the handle poke out like that, a mere arm’s length away?

There was no time to really think about it. She yanked the door open with one hand, grabbed Peeves hand with the other, and pulled them both in as fast as her body would allow. It was a bit of a squeeze, but there was enough room to shuffle around. She didn’t dare let out the lungful of air she was holding until the door shut with the smallest _click_ , encasing them in the cover of darkness.

Dandrane felt Peeves’ hand slide up the front of her shirt. “Babe, not now!”

“Why not?” He purred – he must’ve been centimeters away from her mouth. She could practically taste it. “Kiddies do this all the time.”

“Someone could come in!”

“Doubt it.”

More footsteps, closer and closer and then - were they walking in circles?

“Are you sure this is the right place?” A teenage boy’s voice, muffled from the wall, drifted into Dandrane’s ears.

She knew that voice. It was a sixth year, a Slytherin, with excellent wand-work - and wasn’t he a prefect? _Ah, it’s Gabriel._

“Yes, I’m sure! I spent over a month in here!” A girl exclaimed.

Gryffindor, also sixth year and one of the best in her grade - and _also_ a prefect, if she remembered right. Her name was like an actress’s… _Latifa, that’s it._

“You said you hadn’t been back here in years. Maybe you just mis-remembered.”

“No, it _was_ here! Someone must be using it.”

A snort. “Who? No one else is _here_. Unless Filch and Pinch are going at it -”

“Eww!” Latifa laughed. “Don’t even joke about that!”

“Oh come on, they are so together-”

Peeves was snickering aloud. Dandrane felt panic seize her jaw, and did the only thing she could to shut him up - she kissed him as hard as possible. He gave a little noise of surprise, but after a second he stopped and just started kissing back, hands disappearing under her shirt. Little bastard wasn’t taking his damn time to feel her up...

“Really, though, why don’t we just find another spot? Hell, I’d even rent out a room in the Three Broomsticks, if it came down to it.”

_Man, Peeves is really going hard today… It’s making it hard to hear… Or concentrate. Concentrate, damn it!_

Latifa sighed. “I guess so. It’s just… I mean, it can make _anything_. I think I’m the only girl from the Resistance that hasn’t used it with her boyfriend yet. Or girlfriend, in Melanie’s case.”

“There’ll be time later. We can always sneak away during the next ‘patrol’.”

_Peeves, not there, you little -_

“I wish I could just bring you up to my room.”

Dandrane couldn’t hold back her voice. Peeves was doing a damn good job of massaging her tongue with his, and he had slipped his fingers right past the waistband of her panties and down to her slit.

_Fuckfuckfuckfuck._ They heard her. Her own students. She’d never live it down.

“I know,” Gabriel said with a bittersweet voice. And then there were footsteps, and a conversation getting more muffled by the second.

Peeves pulled his mouth away from hers, leaving the spicy taste to simmer in the air. “Told you. No one can get in while we’re in here. Can’t hear, either.”

“W-what? That… That doesn’t make sense! It’s just a… _Mmm_.” He was dipping his fingers in and out of her before rolling them around her clit. “St-stop that, I’m talkinggg.”

The poltergeist giggled, but complied, pulling away his hand entirely. She heard a sort of slurp - Dandrane could feel her groin ache with want as she realized he was cleaning off his fingers with his mouth.

“It-it’s just a closet, right?”

“Danny, don’t you _know_?” He asked with a slightly sinister chuckle. “We’re in the Room of Requirement.”

“It’s pretty small to be called a room.”

“It expands.” One of his hands cupped her aching mound, and she wanted to just screw thinking and screw _him_. “Much like _you_ ,” he teased, pushing against the seam of her pants right where her entrance was.

She felt her face heat. He was going to pay for that comment later. “You’re awfully forward today.”

“Must be the crown.”

Dandrane felt the top of her head - the bowler hat was still there, but not the crown. When did he take that? “Sneaky devil,” Dandrane replied in a low voice. “Very well, your Majesty - I shall dub thee Prince of the Realm, for now.” Dandrane sank to one knee, grasping the hand Peeves had used to finger her and looking up at him, pulling off her glasses with her free hand to see better. Sure enough, the crown was sitting perfectly on Peeves’ slick locks of hair. “Thou hast one reward for out-dueling me, which may be used at any time, provided I am comfortable with it. What is thine request?” Her gaze dropped to his crotch, where his erection was still prominent, and felt her whole body ache. “You know, _outside_ of the sex we’re going to have here.”

Peeves snickered, his mischievous smirk growing wider. “Oh, I’ll think of _something_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, that’s better! I told you guys you’d have two chapters this month. That duel was real trouble! I really liked the idea of them having wall-sex ages ago, so I thought “I know, I’ll have them sword-fight, and Danny will get pinned, and...shit, they’d be in public.” Thus began my arduous journey in developing a way to get to the Room of Requirement, use it for the traditional RoR=sex room trope, and work in a sword-fight and almost-wall-sex at the same time. I think it did okay - this was actually my first time writing a fight scene! It was hard to work in the sexual attraction/frustration… Hope that turned out okay, too…
> 
> Despite the fact that I kinda pick on HP fanfic tropes, I think they’re pretty fun to use! If I can’t fit it into the story somewhere, I’ll write a one-shot sometime of Peeves and Danny having sex in the RoR properly… Peeves room was also fun to think about! He’s actually got hidden spots of stuff stashed all over the place, but I liked the idea that he had a whole room sealed off from other people. He’s got contraband aplenty. I originally thought “oh, I’ll use Poltergeist Passage!” but then I realized that it was an actual corridor. Silly me. This is why we fact check, kids - it saves you from potential humiliation.
> 
> And in case you missed them - I uploaded all those one-shots I told you about last time, unleashed one-by-one in "The Castle Poltergeist Series"! I hope you guys enjoy them all! Thanks to everyone who voted, and special thanks to ravenpuff_inthetardis for asking directly last chapter! (❁´ω`❁)


	18. The Hidden and the Seen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, guys - it seems several of you checked up to see if I updated at the end of last month and this week? Well, your patience is rewarded, regardless! I’m afraid my muse has a bad habit of leaving for a few days after I post a chapter, and then they just come and goes as they please, no matter what I do. Rather like Peeves himself, actually… As always, please tell me what you think! I live for validation!!

The halls were so quiet you could’ve heard a vase being dropped from the floor above. Candles and torches had been snuffed hours ago, leaving only the light of the full moon filtering through windows to guide anyone wandering at night, when the clouds deigned to finally allow it into view. It was honestly the best night for walking around at three in the morning. You didn’t even need a wand to light the way.

Of course, Peeves didn’t need that anyway. He had excellent night vision. Escorting Dandrane through the halls was a piece of cake.

Well, _sort_ of. She actually knew where she was going now, thanks to the map she was putting together. But getting to go through the castle in the middle of the night without being able to so much as being able to hold her hand was _horrible_.

It seemed she’d gotten a bit paranoid after their little fencing match. The holiday was over, and thus the number of people who could potentially see them together skyrocketed back to its normal amount. Before they’d left the manifested closet post-fencing-shag, she’d made sure he understood that under no circumstances was he allowed to call her anything but “Phlegmy” outside of her rooms and that there would be a strict hands-off policy when they were outside her office. No touching, no teasing, _nothing_. They were, once again, just professor and poltergeist.

It _sucked_ . Sure, he could go into her office or bedroom whenever he fancied at the end of the day, and they would get some snogging or sex in-between just hanging about, but Peeves had the problem of wanting to be with her almost all the time. It seemed that even though she was back, he _still_ missed her when they had to part after the nights they spent together. At least he didn’t have to feel the weight of that for very long any more.

Dandrane walked quietly with definite purpose, wearing mismatching pajamas and thick socks with flamingos on them rather than her usual boots or heels. Made sense, he supposed, as she was sneaking around with him in the witching hour just so she could have uninterrupted research time. Seeing her wear something that cute was just _funny_ , though.

The Room of Requirement puzzled her. Peeves had told her everything he knew - you had to be in front of it, had to be in need of someplace, and had to think about said need a few times - but she had looked rather flabbergasted and said _what?_ in a way that made it seem like this was impossible. So she asked him to show her what he meant, and at first he thought they’d do it the next day, after she was done with classes and had some time on her hands.

But no, of course she had meant _now_ , in the middle of the night, when she hadn’t slept a wink. She didn’t even look tired - her icy blue eyes were as sharp as tacks, completely alert and focused. He sometimes wondered if she was really completely human. That, or her owl-like sleeping schedule hadn’t adjusted itself fully yet. It wasn’t the first time they’d been awake that late since the holiday ended.

The empty space on the sixth-floor wall was so ordinary that anybody could miss it. There were no cracks or outlines or imperfections on the stone to mark where the Room of Requirement stood. Dandrane looked to him for confirmation that they were at the right place.

“So I just have to think what I want three times?”

“Pretty much,” he said with a shrug. In truth, he’d only ever been able to get in a handful of times over the centuries, and it was when he needed a place to stash something quickly. He hadn’t been able to get back in there to get anything out for over five years.

Dandrane looked pointedly at the wall, but nothing happened. “I’m thinking hard, but why isn’t anything happening?”

“Maybe you have to say you _need_ something instead?”

“Maybe… When we were inside, didn’t it sound like those two kids walked in front for a bit?”

It was funny to see her walk backwards, eyes on the spot of wall where the door should appear, and move forward and backward again for a few paces.

It seemed she had thought the right thing, though, as a door handle grew out of the wall, with a wooden door fading into existence. Dandrane frowned, but she went in anyway, and Peeves naturally followed her.

The room had a pile of parchment, several quills of differing size and feather-types, and a dozen inkpots sitting on a large table with two chairs; a giant chalkboard hung on the wall opposite them. A rather large chandelier illuminated the place.

“You needed a place to write?”

“I figured that would be easiest.” Dandrane strode towards the chalkboard and started scribbling.

  * _Opened by needing something, pass while thinking of it three times._
  * __Produced parchment, quills, and chalkboard.__
  * _No pens/pencils._
  * _Missing typewriter._  



A typewriter? It’d been a _long_ time since Peeves had seen one of those. “Used to typing rather than scribbling, Danny? Explains your mess of a hand...”

She shot him a look. “Peeves, what did I tell you - we’re not in my room.”

“Oh come on, it’s not like we’ll be _disturbed_.”

“I’d still rather you get into the habit. And of _course_ I’m used to typing - my Dad’s been using one to write since the early sixties. I learned while sitting on his lap. And household computers have been a common thing since the nineties, you know.”

While Peeves could sort of picture a smaller version of her with a typewriter, he had no capacity to imagine her with whatever a computer actually was. He heard the term tossed around a few times in the past two decades, but it was few and far between… Muggle Studies classes - when he bothered to overhear them - never went into it, either. “What the hell _is_ a computer, anyway?”

She scrunched up her face, looking like she was searching for the right words. “Well, uh… I guess ‘a machine capable of performing various calculations and storing information’ is the best definition I can give you. I’d need to show you an example to really explain it better.”

Her gaze travelled around the room. _Ah, she’s expecting one to appear._ “I guess this room can’t produce high-tech machines. Figures… Hm. Oh - imagine you’re going to put a lot spells on an object to get it to do certain things, right? Like, you want to charm this quill to take down everything you say,” she said, picking up the nearest quill and presenting it like a product for sale. “You have to put a lot of stuff into it, right? It has to be able to ‘hear’ your voice, or everything around it, and it has to know how to write in English or whatever language you want. So you have to use it to write while talking to it for a while so it gets all this input and can reproduce it later. A computer can do the same things, except instead of storing everything in a pile of paper or a tape that can be easily destroyed, you can store it on a _single_ thing that will hold _all_ your documents or audio recordings in one location. And because computers can all be connected to one another to share information over long distances, you can share this stuff instantly with other people or copy it to another location without have to travel there directly and be able to retrieve it at pretty much any time.”

That was a lot to take in, but… It really was just like magic, then? Just...without magic…? “ _How_ _?”_

“Electricity, various types of metals, and a lot of complicated math that I can’t begin to understand!” Dandrane answered with a smile and scribbled ‘computer’ down on the blackboard. “This room is probably like one, too, since it makes things within some kind of limitation, but… That’s what really bothers me.” The witch dropped the chalk carelessly and plopped down in one of the chairs. “How does it _know_ what to make?”

It was a good question, and one Peeves never really thought of. He was very used to just accepting that a magical room did things because it was enchanted. He didn’t care how. “Doesn’t it just hear you?”

“But why can it tell what I’m _thinking_ ? It shouldn’t be able to. It’s a _room_ . I mean, if it were a person, that’d be more understandable.” She looked deep in concentration; Peeves sat across from her, crossing his legs and kicking one around. “Some people can do legilimency, where they sort through memories and the emotions you felt at the time. There’s _always_ been the theory that the human brain is capable of telepathy, too, where you can actually read a person’s thought process as it occurs, but there’s never been real _proof…_ But making an _object_ to do any of that is impossible.”

“Why not? It’s supposed to be impossible for humans to _fly_ , but a few managed to do that, too.”

She crossed her arms across her chest, tapping one arm with her index finger. “Because there aren’t any known charms or spells to read a human’s mind outside of legilimency - and objects, no matter _how_ enchanted, can’t have the _capability_ to search through memories. It wouldn’t be able to discern the jumbled pictures and words from an early memory or a later one, if it could even see them. It’d be more like trying to interpret T.V. static…”

He knew what static electricity was, at the very least, so even if that wasn’t exactly what she meant, his interpretation made sense. Trying to make sense of that weird fuzzy jolt was difficult. “So, what, you think there’s a _person_ trapped in this room, forced to read your memories for all eternity? A person with _telepathy_?”

Dandrane snorted. “Nah, I doubt it. They’d have to be immortal to live this long, and even immortals need some kind of sustenance. I doubt a vampire is stuck in an invisible room in here.” She leaned back, tapping her foot irritably against the floor. “I mean, I get why it can be any size - it just changes the dimensions of the room to fit what’s supposed to be in here, that’s easy enough to do… I get why it could store things, too, like one of those duplicate-layer-boxes or whatever, rotating certain holding areas of things and even shifting the contents… But I don’t understand how it _knows_ what we want. It doesn’t make any sense.”

He grinned. “Now you’re just repeating yourself, Phlegmy. Can’t you just accept that it does what it does?”

“No,” she said firmly, glaring into space. “I want to know how it _works_ , damn it.”

“Should put the sorting hat on you one day. Bet you a galleon it’d say Ravenclaw.”

Dandrane gave a _hm_ with a little quirk of her lips. “The hat’s a puzzle too, honestly. Is it really as old as the castle?”

“Minus about a century, yeah. Didn’t get to see it made or nothing, but that hat’s always said something along the lines of having brains stuffed inside. Wouldn’t that be something?” He snickered, picturing a shriveled, preserved brain stuffed deep inside the hat.

“You know…” She trailed off, looking very much like she was contemplating that as fact.

“Oh come on, Phlegmy, I was sort of _joking_. So was the hat, probably.”

“I had a friend by the name of Agent R who worked in the underground part of the Congress - I think you guys have a similar department, like the _Mystery Department_ or something?” He gave _kinda-sorta_ sort of shrug. “Whatever - I asked him what he did down there once, and he said he worked in the _Think Tank_ . I only ever saw a glimpse of it; there were _dozens_ of brains, floating around in jars and everything. I _still_ don’t know what the hell they _did_ with them all… _That_ was classified.”

“So you knew an _Unspeakable_ ?” Peeves raised a brow. “Even _I_ know those guys don’t talk.”

“Well, I mean, one of the reasons I even _knew_ the guy was because he was interested in my own research - I tried keeping the whole ghost thing on the down-low, but it turned out that Congress tracks your vehicle’s whereabouts for as long as you work there, and once I explained to one of the bosses that I was driving to go ghost-hunting in my spare time and not anything criminal, Agent R got wind of it somehow and started talking to me when he was off-duty. I even brought him along once… He had terrible taste in driving music.”

“So it didn’t have anything to do with the brains he was looking after?”

She smiled a bit. “Nah, turned out he just liked the mystery of life after death more than working with brains. I haven’t heard from him since I quit… But I wonder…” Dandrane turned her attention back to him. “What do you think would happen if I just _said_ I needed to know how the room worked? Do you think it would break?”

Peeves wasn’t really sure. Nothing had happened yet. “Are you thinking about it right now?”

“...no, I want to test something else, first.” She furrowed her brows, looking down at the table, and suddenly a book materialized out of nowhere - it looked like it might have come from the Restricted Section. The witch flinched, startled that it popped into existence without a sound, but peeked at the inner-cover. “Well, it summons library books, anyway.”

“Ooh, I want to try!” Peeves said, thinking about needing the fencing sword he kept balanced on the book pile in his room. It appeared, laying on top of the parchment pile. “Hey, nice!”

They tried various objects - obviously food didn’t appear, despite Peeves thinking about the last Pepper Imp he had stored away. Dandrane’s leather jacket appeared (Peeves felt a tingle just looking at it), along with a fluffy tartan blanket, one of the plates they only used during feasts, and even a record from Dandrane’s cabinet. She examined them all with a discerning eye.

“Well, it’s certainly good at copying my things,” she muttered, turning _The Damned_ album over in her hands. “It’s even got the price scribbled on the barcode where it should be.”

Peeves slashed at the air with the rapier. “Feels real to me. Do you think it transports things here, like summoning?”

“Probably not. You’d think people would complain of losing their stuff, wouldn’t you? It must know what’s inside the castle…” She trailed off, standing straight and scribbling once more on the blackboard, listing the things it was capable of and another it wasn’t. The tape set in her trunk were apparently off-limits, as well as “ _the contents of Peeves trunk”, “a Basilisk skull”_ and “ _Ravenclaw’s diadem._ ”

“Phlegmy, the diadem was burnt to cinders during the war, of _course_ it won’t appear. Why don’t you try making something new?” He asked, his eyes catching the jacket again and feeling the need to run his hands over it. Preferably with her in it. “Try making your bed from your place.”

She smirked. “Keep it in your pants, I need to sleep _sometime_ today.” Peeves grinned back, privately noting to himself to keep her awake all night at least once. _Maybe during Easter, so she won’t have to get up so early._ “Besides, if it can’t make the tapes I keep in storage, I don’t think it’ll be able to make a bed it’s never seen before. It really does seem to be able to make things it _knows_ it has somewhere… So having movie night in here is also out, sadly.”

“You know, I _vaguely_ remember someone bringing a film one year. Decades ago, mind you. Never got to see it.”

“What film was it? Like, a silent one or something?”

“Dunno,” Peeves added with a shrug, knowing full well that even if he _did_ know at one point, that memory was so useless it was long forgotten. “What’d you have in mind, anyway?”

“I’d like to say _Casablanca_ was my first thought, but to be honest it was _Ghostbusters_ ,” she said with a bit of a smile. “Lonny would be disappointed in me. But you can’t choose your favorite movie, anyway - it kinda chooses you. Like, you see it, and you go ‘Yeah, that one, that’s the one I want to watch on repeat for the rest of my life.’ I’ve _really_ got to show you _Ghostbusters_ somehow, though, I bet you’d get a massive kick out what muggles think about ghosts...” She folded her arms, her grin widening, and a sort of misty-eyed look, like she was thinking about a nostalgic memory. “Great stuff in there…”

“Phlegmy, are you going to tell the room what you really want or what?”

“...yeah, I suppose I’m done with everything else.” Dandrane breathed in deeply and stared at the blackboard in concentration. He half-expected her to voice the desire to see what made the room work aloud, but she remained silent.

Peeves jumped as the stone wall behind them shifted, grinding stone against stone like it had become a sliding door.

A square window of old glass showed their reflections, shimmering blue in the low candle-light - but the pretty image was completely ruined by the large brain floating inside, with strange thin tendrils attached to the stone walls that made up the rest of its tank. It looked too big to fit in a human, but it was smaller than that of a giant…

Peeves couldn’t stop staring at it. He had the creeping feeling on the back of his neck that it was watching him, somehow, and he had the odd fanciful thought that it might move. He saw Dandrane’s reflection beside his slump, like she was leaning against the table edge, but her eyes were as wide as saucers.

“Peeves,” she said in an awed voice, “you haven’t _seen_ this before, right?”

She looked over at him, and he didn’t need to turn his head to know that expression - fear of the unknown.

“Never.”

“You...you didn’t know this was here?”

“Don’t think _anybody_ does.”

The brain continued to float in the blue liquid, not stirring or causing so much as a bubble to form. The tank must’ve been air tight… It still creeped him out, though. He’d seen organs stuffed in jars for years, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen a brain before, but there was a terrible, nagging feeling in his head.

He’d never seen anybody in his entire existence _build_ the room, but the castle had undergone additions for years after it opened. He figured it was Rowena, or some combined effort between her and Godric, or even Salazar, who would definitely enjoy making a secret room for doing whatever he pleased. Maybe a combination of all four, knowing Helga’s incredible skills with charms. He didn’t really care _who_ made the room, or who had the duty of hooking the brain up to the room by what looked like nerves.

He cared about whose brain it _was_. Dandrane had a point about legilimency - if this brain controlled the room, then they must’ve been an accomplished legilimens.

And the only one of that caliber Peeves had ever known from those days was Salazar.

Despite the fall-out between the founders, they still cared about one another. Peeves knew it. _Everybody_ had known it. And everybody also knew that when Salazar had left, there had been no sign of him afterward. His own children didn’t know. Everyone had guessed that he had just vanished to the other side of the world. The remaining three friends did their best to pick up the slack and carry on, even though they could still sometimes be heard wondering about whether or not he’d come back one day. Peeves himself had wondered that for nearly half a century, long after Rowena had died and before Godric passed away.

What if it was _Salazar’s_ brain, floating before them like a dead fish?

The very thought of someone killing him and deliberately using him like this made Peeves feel like... Well, he hadn’t eaten anything in _days_ but he felt like his stomach was going to turn itself inside out.

“Peeves? You okay?”

He felt a hand on his shoulder; Dandrane was slightly pale, but she looked a lot more concerned than scared or weirded out. “Not really.”

She eyed him carefully, stepping between him and the brain in the tank. “Let’s get out of here.”

Dandrane didn’t object when he clung to her arm on the way out, even when they stepped into the hallway. The door faded into nothing behind them, but he didn’t care - it didn’t help the fact that there was, in fact, a real brain controlling part of the castle. One that could very well be one of the founders.

They made it to the stairs, and Dandrane finally spoke.

“Well, I guess the world’s governments are a thousand years behind the Hogwarts Founders, huh?” She joked, trying to lighten the mood. Peeves said nothing; he couldn’t think of the right way to phrase what he wanted. “I guess some things really aren’t meant to be tampered with, though,” she said bitterly, “I don’t want to imagine the day someone decides to make someone else’s brain into a literal weapon.”

The poltergeist felt his fingers dig into her arm a little. Not enough to hurt, thankfully. “Danny,” he said in a serious tone that weirded out himself, “don’t tell anyone about this.”

She raised a brow, looking offended. “You’re kidding me. Do you think I’m _nuts_ ? Did you not hear what I _just said_? You think I’m gonna run around telling people your brain’s in a tank?”

“...you think it’s _mine_?”

Dandrane looked a little sheepish. “Well, I mean… There’s no _proof_ , of course, it’s just a thought… But it _could_ be. I mean, there’s no _way_ you didn’t come from a physical being at one point, right?”

It never would have occurred to him. He never felt human, never had any kind of latent memories or some such crap about being alive before. Sure, they had talked about him potentially being made from a dead body, but...wasn’t that rather _indirect_ ? It wasn’t like dementors varied in size or shape. Who could say that poltergeists didn’t all look alike, if they could be as solid as him? Shove some more magic their way and they’d probably all look _identical_ to him.

“And, I mean, you said yourself you’ve been in the castle since it was founded… I just thought-”

“Phlegmy, I’m _not_ human.”

“I _know_.”

“I don’t think you _do_ .” He tore his arm away from her, feeling his temper rise. “I never _have_ been! The ghosts know it, and _I_ know it!”

“So what?” Dandrane ground out, her hands on her hips. “I don’t care if you were human or an imp or whatever, or if you manifested yourself out of thin air and a buildup of leftover magic! You’re still a _person_ , and your brain being in that fucking puzzle room is just as good a possibility as anyone else’s!” She took a breath, and Peeves felt a mix of things; the fact that she called him a person was nice and it made his heart feel squeezed, but the insistence on him having a physical brain at one point was ridiculous and he wanted to shake her to drive the point home. If he could remember something from a thousand years ago, he would _surely_ remember living.

“And I don’t care what _anybody_ else tells you,” she continued, “The fact is that _no one_ \- not you, not the ghosts, not Merlin or Dumbledore _or_ the Founders of Hogwarts - knows where or what you came from. And until I’m proven wrong, I’m sticking to the theory that you had to come from _something_ living, and everybody else can just shove it.”

He felt an urge to just seize her shoulders and kiss her, but he knew they were halfway down a secret staircase and still technically in public. And the stupid image of the brain floating in the tank popped right back up, and the romantic impulse disappeared as quick as a flash.

“I want you to tell me that this sounds stupid,” he began, not wanting to really look her in the eye. “What if - whatifit’sSlytherinsbraininthere?”

She blinked. “What?”

“What if it’s... _Salazar Slytherin’s_?” He muttered the last part, feeling disgusted at himself for mentioning it at all. It was stupid that the thought of it wouldn’t go away.  

Dandrane gave a _hmm_ , eyeing him carefully. “...do _you_ think it is?”

“No, but - no one ever saw him after he left! And he was a _legilimens_ , and _you_ said that the brain _must’ve_ been seeing memories and thoughts and-!”

He felt her hand on his shoulder, and he finally looked back at her.

“Babe,” Dandrane said softly, “that brain could be anyone’s, and I’m not going to tell you there isn’t a chance it’s his, but… Do you really think the other three Founders would do that to him?” The witch rubbed his shoulder affectionately, a small reassuring smile growing on her face. “You know more about them than I do, but I think they were above putting a friend’s brain in a cage forever.”

“But _one of them_ still put it _in_ there.”

“We don’t know the circumstances, though,” she said, sliding her hand away to grasp his fingers instead. “It could’ve been _anyone_ \- a dying student, maybe, or _hell_ , it could’ve been some poor sap who just got lost in the forest! The person could’ve given _permission_ for them to do it, for all we know. I doubt, and I mean _really_ doubt, that it was Slytherin’s.”

As the weight eased off his mind, Peeves felt his usual grin slowly return. “You think a muggle can do legilimency?” He asked in a lightly mocking tone.

She shrugged, but he guessed from her expression the answer was a firm _yes_. “If some muggles can see you and others can predict the future, who's to say some can’t actually read minds?” They began their descension again, hand-in-hand, and Peeves wished they could just go about the whole castle like that.

“Besides,” Dandrane added with a cocky grin, “I always thought the notion that we couldn’t read thoughts was bullshit.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Do you think she’s still grading them?” Stan asked Cyrus, noticeably glancing at the tall coo-coo clock by the tank holding a grey toad that constantly seemed to emit a cloud of misty smoke. Class wasn’t supposed to start for another two minutes, but it was a little surprising that Professor Flemming wasn’t there yet. Sure, she had a few days where she was rushing out of her room several minutes past the traditional start time, but it didn’t happen _that_ often. She’d been doing really well for the past month. “I mean, she didn’t have them _last_ week.”

“I hope so. I doubt she _actually_ lost them like she said,” Cyrus replied, shaking his ink-pot to watch the sparkly ink swirl around like a blue snowglobe. “She probably just put it off because of Christmas.”

“Maybe she needs a teacher’s aide,” Stan pondered, twirling a sugar-spun quill slowly in his fingers. “Didn’t you volunteer for Bartlett last year?”

“A couple times, yeah, but I don’t recommend it. It was really boring, and he only let me do the grades underneath ours.” Cyrus leaned back in the slightly uncomfortable wooden chair, glancing at the office door at the top of the staircase in the corner. Still closed. _She might come through the front door, though. Wouldn’t be the first time._

He turned in his seat slightly, just to look and see if she was coming through there, and caught a glimpse of Audrey. She was sitting in her usual seat nearer the back of the class, hunched over her desk, reading something with a protective cover over it. It was strange to see her hair put in a thick braid and held up high, like a ponytail; even if she hadn’t been wearing her reading glasses, there was something about the way she looked today that made her seem less...stony, he supposed.  

She’d always just kind of _been_ there, big and vaguely intimidating, with her serious expression and raspier tone of voice. Now it was hard _not_ to look at her when she was in his field of vision.

The shocking color of Professor Flemming’s hair moved right into his line of sight, and Cyrus sat straight, poking Stan lightly in the shoulder.

“Okay, kiddos, books and wands away,” the witch said loudly, striding to the front of the room with audible clunks of heavy boots on stone.

Ah, another un-standard note session. It wasn’t the first time the professor had disregarded the required reading material and given them lectures on subjects from one of the other, _weirder_ books she had on her shelf. Cyrus’ favorite so far had been the large group discussion of unorthodox defense methods. Learning different non-violent ways to disable attackers had been fun, and the fact that they all got to brainstorm ideas for different scenarios was something they had never done before.

Cyrus settled in his chair, flexing his fingers, ready to write as fast as he could.

“You don’t have to take notes today, either, but I’m not here to run your lives,” Professor Flemming said, pulling out a thick folder from one of the desk drawers. “But I am here to tell you all how disappointed I am...” she added grimly, seeming to cast a look at the class.

Cyrus felt his enthusiasm drop to the ground. Those were undoubtedly their midterms. This was going to be a _review_. He cast a sideways glance at Nolan, who looked just as worried as Cyrus felt. They’d studied so hard...!

“...in your _older peers_!” The professor grinned wide, her voice suddenly cheerful. “Congratulations!” She clicked her heels together, looking as perky as could be, and suddenly there was a flutter of colorful confetti and shimmering golden streamers raining gently down from above. “You guys ALL passed!”

There was a collective sigh of relief, but Cyrus couldn’t tell if he felt relieved or annoyed. He saw many sagging shoulders and sudden smiles, and a couple of the Gryffindors started capturing the confetti in their hands to throw it at their peers as a buzz of delighted chatter started up. Nolan laughed to himself and Stan’s head slumped backward with an alleviated grunt.

Professor Flemming looked rather proud, even as she began to brush the confetti off of her spiked hair. “Man - you guys should’ve seen your faces! _Priceless_ ... So, before I hand these back,” she said, flicking briefly through the stack of paper, “I want you guys to know that not _only_ did you all pass, but you all made a cumulatively higher score than any of my N.E.W.T. kids. The only class to do better than you on average was first year.”

The stack of exams was plopped into the OUT tray on her desk, and suddenly they flew upwards, shooting and flapping towards their desks. Cyrus caught his before it landed, and upon unfolding it he wanted to sigh in absolute joy. A bright blue E was scribbled at the top, along with a “ _esp. liked your bonus answer! Keep it up!_ ” note underneath.

“Now I know you all want to look through them, and I know some of you probably have questions about the ones you got wrong, and probably that typo I did on seventeen, but I’m afraid this class is mostly going to be practical today, so you guys will have to wait for office hours - or if there’s enough of you, we can schedule a quick review next class. _Now_ \- what I’m going to teach you isn’t exactly on the normal curriculum.”

“Wow, what a surprise,” Nolan muttered sarcastically. Cyrus fought down a grin.

“In fact, I’d be surprised if my predecessor talked about it all. It’s not something that comes up in everyday conversation - of course I’m _sure_ you all expect _that_ from me,” Professor Flemming added with a knowing smile, causing a few chuckles among the room. Cyrus could hear Irene’s girly giggle from the other side of the room and winced, the awkwardness of the Yule party threatening to float back up to the forefront of his thoughts. “Now, it doesn’t really have an official name, but I like to call it ‘muscle magic’ - half because it sounds like one of those late-night infomercials, and half because it’s the easiest way to describe it. Basically, it’s channeling your magic to a group of muscles to add extra force, rather than channeling it through a wand to do spells.”

Stan raised his hand as high in the air as he could.

“Yes, Stan?”

“How come we’ve never heard of that kind of magic distribution before?”

“Good question! Unfortunately, I can’t give a good answer for that other than the fact that the official research on the subject was published in 1985, and in the same year there was a swift ban on all magical people entering non-magical contact-sports leagues. So that might have something to do with it being hushed up; and that few people are capable of doing it, anyway.”

A Gryffindor with outrageously curly blonde hair, Kelly Hardwicke, raised her hand next. “So why are we learning it if we have a good chance of not being able to do it?”

“Because,” Professor Flemming grinned, “everybody should know about it and everybody should learn how to throw a decent punch if they can’t use their wand. Trust me, it’s come in handy. Okay, grab your bags - we’re going up to the fourth floor!”

There was a great rustle of movement as all twenty-eight students stood to shove everything on their desks back into their bags.

“So what’d you get?” Stan asked curiously, excitement shining in his eyes. Stan was a whiz with magic theory and read the textbooks for all their classes so fast he practically _ate_ them, but he loved actually being able to put it all into physical work, so it was no surprise he was almost bouncing on his toes. Cyrus always found it funny that it rather contrasted with Nolan’s dislike of reading and practicing material he wasn’t at all interested in.

“An E - how about you?”

Nolan smirked at them, shouldering his hefty bag as they made their way towards the door. “Like we have to ask the smartest person in our year if they aced their test? Come on, Cyrus, you _know_ he’s gotten an O. I got an E, too, though; I totally messed up that question about the difference between a hex and a jinx.”

“Hexes are just more gruesome,” Cyrus replied just as Stan opened his mouth to answer. “I always thought of it like ‘ _hex_ es are _ex_ cruciating, _jin_ xes are _irr_ itating’.”

“Why didn’t you share that during the study session?” Nolan asked with slightly narrowed eyes.

“Didn’t think it was that much of a problem, really. I was too busy concentrating on curses and the disarming stuff,” Cyrus replied with a shrug, catching sight of Audrey waiting for Irene and Kelly to catch up with her and her fellow Slytherin, Leslie Combes, who had long dark hair covering half her face and was taller than most of the boys. Where Audrey looked serious, Leslie looked somber, and Kelly and Irene looked positively bubbly next to them at all times, which made for a very odd group. Audrey’s bag was bursting at the seams, and Cyrus had half a mind to just go and warn her about it now, before disaster struck...

“What are you looking at?” Stan muttered from his right, darting his eyes towards the group of girls.

“Nothing,” Cyrus replied hurriedly, looking as far away from Audrey as possible.

Nolan leaned over dramatically, a sly, knowing smile gracing his face. “He’s looking at Audrey,” he whispered, waggling his eyebrows. Stan cast a look between Nolan, Cyrus, and finally Audrey, whose ponytail-braid was swinging to and fro as she moved her head to talk to Irene.

Stan nodded. “I can see why.” Cyrus almost whipped his head to look at him, completely surprised that Stan, who had never before had an interest in girls, was talking like that. “That braid looks like it came right out of a fighting game… I wish I could look that cool.”

Cyrus’ shoulders slacked. _Why am I relieved at that_ , he thought, trying to brush away the weird feeling. Stan was right though, Audrey did look a bit like a _Street Fighter_ character or something. It _was_ kind of cool...

“Oh Stan,” Nolan chided quietly, patting his shoulder in a playfully mocking tone. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

The shorter boy didn’t find any humor in this. In fact, he actually _glared_ at Nolan. “I’m four months older than you.”

“...it’s just a figure of speech,” Nolan said somewhat sheepishly, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Sorry.”

“How about instead of apologizing, you actually explain it to me?” Stan remarked coolly, raising a brow.

Cyrus immediately avoided either of their gazes and pretended to watch the professor, who seemed to be in a rather cheerful mood. It was weird seeing her not in a complete suit; she decided on worn jeans and a red flannel shirt instead, throwing a black suit-jacket over it for some reason. She seemed to be scanning the class - probably counting heads. The hallway had gotten rather crowded.

Professor Flemming gave a rather loud whistle to get everyone’s attention, and for once Nolan seemed to shut up. “Alright, everyone’s here, so just follow me. And I wouldn’t try to run off, either - I _know_ who’s here and who isn’t,” she finished with a smirk.

Cyrus thought this statement was completely unnecessary. As the crowd began to follow the pink-haired professor down the hall, there was nothing but chattering from them all, and it didn’t take much to notice the excitement in the air. Even Leslie, who was apparently chatting away with Audrey, was actually smiling for once.

Now that he thought of it, though, how were they going to learn this? He could sort of imagine an empty classroom with some punching bags chained to the ceiling, like some kind of weird martial arts studio… Or were they going to fight each other on those plastic mats that those places had? He didn’t relish the thought of having to defend himself against a classmate’s punch, let alone the thought of having to punch one of them. He didn’t think anyone in their grade was worth punching, and he was sure the rest felt the same way. There was the usual animosity between Gryffindors and Slytherins, sure, but it wasn’t as bad as the older classes. It was more like a snarky insult match between the two houses; it only seemed to escalate to taboo territory when the older kids were involved, hurling insults at families and lineages, but the younger crowd seemed to know better than to step over that boundary line…

Cyrus never understood the purpose of those fights. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were always at odds during Quidditch, but outside of that they were as friendly with each other as if they were from the same house. He sometimes wondered if it wasn’t some kind of curse put on the other two houses, rather than the Gryffindor’s assumption that all Slytherins were incarnates of Death Eaters and the Slytherin’s assumption that Gryffindors were all reckless stubborn idiots.

 _Well, Felix kind of fits that stereotype_ , he thought with a small laugh. He loved his brother, but there was no denying that between them, Cyrus had inherited the brains and the desire to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground where they belonged. On the other hand, Felix wasn’t so stubborn that he didn’t admit to going to his own brother for help. In fact, he often lauded the fact that his younger brother could make a more successful O.W.L.-level potion when he was twelve than half the fifth years.   _House stereotypes are pretty ridiculous, though. I haven’t met many Ravenclaws that lived up to the whole ‘wise’ thing, and the snobbiest guy in the house isn’t even that thick-headed._ He found himself watching Audrey’s braid swing in motion as they climbed the grand staircase. _And Audrey isn’t some cruel muggle-hater, either. I really doubt she or Leslie there are going to go raise Voldemort from the dead or something._

“Cyrus,” Stan whispered, poking him in the shoulder. The blond turned. “Do you _really_ have a crush on-?”

He felt his face heat as panic seized his stomach. “No!” He said louder than he would’ve liked. A few people in front of him shot him curious looks.

“Really?” Stan asked curiously, “But Nolan said-”

Cyrus shot Nolan a dirty look.

“Come on, you know it’s true,” he muttered with a pointed look.

“No. It. _Isn’t_.”

Nolan looked incredibly skeptical. “Uh-huh. Right.”

Cyrus wanted to tell him straight that he didn’t have a crush on anyone, much less Audrey, but he was interrupted by something soft hitting his head. A ball of wadded up paper the size of a fist landed at his feet, partially covered in what looked like fresh ink.

He looked up, and Peeves the Poltergeist grinned down at them from above a higher set of stairs, a full wastepaper basket in his hand. He gave it another shake, and a girl behind them in pigtails shrieked as an ink-covered paper ball hit her hair.

Cyrus whipped out his wand, intending to try a shield charm or something, but he was too late - a large purple umbrella flew over their heads as fast as lightning, causing the rain of paper to bounce against it and fall over the stair-railings.

“I should’ve _known_ you’d show up, Peeves,” Professor Flemming said from the front of the crowd. Cyrus’ group was smack-dab in the middle of it. “I guess there’s no resisting a wandering crowd of students.”

“ _Phlegmy_ ,” he said in a weird tone, “This _is_ a funny sight. Getting a whole class to skip, are you?” The umbrella folded up and transformed into a lot of soap bubbles, which rose into the air. Peeves was holding the empty wastepaper basket under one arm, grinning malevolently down at her. “Or did you just get _lost_ again?”

 _Professor Flemming got lost in the castle before?_ It was a bit funny to think an adult could get lost in Hogwarts, but Cyrus didn’t think it warranted the few titters that popped up in the crowd. He saw her cheeks go faintly pink.

“And here I was, going to be polite and invite you along,” the professor said with a cool air, making her way back to the front of the group. “Come on kids, keep moving,” she prompted, waving them all to follow her.

Quick as a whip, Peeves flew down to float beside the professor, albeit a foot above her eye-level, which prompted students to give him a wide berth and shuffle themselves to the professor’s other side. “Invite me to _what_?”

“Well you don’t get to come along _now_ , do you? That’s what happens when you decide to be a dick.”

Cyrus balked at her crude insult; no one in their age group really minded her occasional swearing, but it was a different case entirely to talk to the castle poltergeist like that. No one who did that tended to walk away with their dignity intact, let alone one of their belongings. He remembered the last time one of the Ravenclaw prefects (Breanna, if he remembered correctly) had called Peeves ‘a stupid piece of shite’, the prefect’s bag had been swiped, hung on the highest chandelier, and somehow its contents had been replaced with several live rats. She had to go on a school-wide hunt for her textbooks, which ended up being placed in high areas no person could ever think to reach without a wand, but supposedly she never found her homework. He’d hate to see what Peeves would do - or try to do - to a teacher.

Weirdly enough, though, the poltergeist looked less angry and more like he actually enjoyed her casual rudeness. “At least tell me what it _was_.”

The professor hummed, sliding her hands into her jean pockets. “I’ve got a training dummy set up. I thought you might like to see it, since it’s designed to literally rush at people and annoy them until its hit. It’s the kind of exercise you’d get popcorn for.”

Peeves’ grin shrank to something of a skeptical look. “You can’t expect me to believe _that_.”

“Just because you’ve never seen one before doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” Professor Flemming said with a laugh. “I wonder if it’s just an American thing, though... I _did_ have to smuggle it over. I mean, I asked McGonagall about it before the break, but she just said you guys didn’t _have_ one.”

“I’d only believe it if I _saw_ it,” Peeves said, putting his hands on his hips. “What’re you even going to _do_ with it?”

“Punch it.” Peeves’ grin returned full-force. “Third door down, kids,” the witch instructed, moving over to the doorframe after several kids had gone through to keep watch on everyone heading in. Peeves hovered there for a moment, glancing at the inside of the classroom, then over at the professor, and then backing away down the hall, his eyes still very much on the door. Cyrus didn’t doubt he’d come back to watch once the exercise started, but moved ahead anyway.

It was an empty classroom, but it looked very different. For one, the desks had been all shoved to the back of the room, some chairs stacked on the surfaces while others were shoved underneath. For two, there seemed to be a large plush mat in the middle of the room, enough for thirty people to sit on if they were all sitting with their legs folded under them. And third, there was a large square at the front of the room in what looked like masking tape, and inside was what looked like one of those posable wooden figures used for art, except it had no head or arms, was life-size, and it looked like it was wearing a thick red bodysuit. A lot of people were standing on the giant mat, so Cyrus followed their lead, Stan and Nolan not far behind.

“Cyrus, you have ink in your hair,” Stan pointed out, taking out his wand from his robe pocket. “Hold still, okay?”

Cyrus wasn’t so mad with them to not stoop down a bit and let Stan vanish the goopy blue ink. “Thanks.”

Nolan didn’t say anything to either of them as they waited for everyone to get inside; he didn’t move away from them, either, though, which meant he was probably feeling sorry about his earlier comment and trying to work up the nerve to apologize properly later.

Professor Flemming was standing by the door, holding the ink-covered pigtail of the girl who had been standing behind their group and running her own wand over it like a hairdryer. “I want all the tall people in the back, please,” she called. “There you go, good as new.”

Cyrus and Stan, who were both shorter than Nolan, cast him a mildly apologetic look as they shuffled more towards the front and he to the back. They always tended to do wand exercises together, even when they were only supposed to be in groups of two.

“Okay - so, this is a training dummy!” Professor Flemming gestured to the doll as the class quieted down. She threw her jacket over her shoulder, where it flapped its sleeves to fly to the coat-rack by the door and hang itself there. “Normally, they have all their limbs, but I took his arms off so he won’t be whirling them around in your faces while you’re in the ring. That’s for the _advanced_ classes,” she grinned, rolling up her sleeves. “Now, since I want everyone here to learn how to throw a decent punch at least, your objective with this guy is to hit him in the torso.” The professor stepped into the ring, and Cyrus almost expected it to spring to life right there, but it stood stock-still. “Preferably right here, in the stomach, as that’s the softest part.” The witch made a fist and lightly tapped the dummy’s stomach. “But, you can also go for the solar-plexus, which is right here,” she pointed, tapping the spot with her knuckles. “That’s the weakest point in a person’s body, and if you hit someone there, it should leave them wheezing. At least for people who are completely _ripped_ , anyway.

“So, how to punch:  I want everyone to roll up their sleeves and curl their wand-hand into a fist, and keep their thumb on the outside.” The Professor held up her right fist, giving them a sideways view of it to see her thumb curled over her knuckles.

Cyrus complied, feeling strange about the whole thing.

“Now try to tense the muscle in your fist, but don’t move your arm - it’s okay if your arm gets tense, too, that happens. Try to concentrate on keeping it tense for a few seconds, and then let go. And repeat.”

Cyrus felt very strange indeed, trying to get his fingers to tense and feeling his whole forearm seize. Weren’t they supposed to learn to channel their magic there or something? He had the image of his whole arm lighting up with some kind of colorful energy, like in cartoons, but his arm remained completely normal. Sneaking a glance at the kids in front and beside him, he saw that no one had any kind of seeable magic.

“Everyone got the hang of it?” Professor Flemming glanced over the crowd. “Good. Now, to punch your enemy, you’re going to want to try to keep your arm loose for the first half of your swing, then tense it for the second half, and then once your fist has made impact, you can relax it. So, like _this_.”

Professor made a show of slowly swinging a punch. “Relax… Tense,” she pushed her fist against the dummy’s stomach. “And relax again. If you find you have difficulty doing that too fast, you can keep your arm tense when you're readying your punch - but you _have_ to relax it afterwards. Your muscles are going to be really sore otherwise. Now, this dummy operates on a series of commands, so when I give the word, it should start rushing at you. It will only stay inside the ring I made, so if you rush outside of it, it’ll get stuck but keep trying to go at you.”

“Um, Professor?” Irene asked, her hand raised timidly in the air. “How do we use muscle magic during this?”

“Good question. I’m afraid you’ll either be able to use it, or you won’t. At your age, it tends to only appear when you’re stressed, which is why the dummy is programmed to annoy the crap out of you by getting in your space as much as possible. But you’ll _know_ if you have it once you hit it - and those of us who have it can control _when_ we use it the further along we get. For example, my best friend has had the ability since she was five, and _known_ it, but she couldn’t fully control when she used it until she was about sixteen. For you guys, you wouldn’t be able to control it until you're like, twenty, maybe, and your strength will fluctuate with how much muscle you have, anyway. I’m a lot weaker than the bestie is, and I can only use it for seconds at a time because I don’t use it that much, but here, I’ll show you just what it does.”

Professor Flemming rolled her right shoulder and cricked her neck, positioning the dummy at one end of the tape rectangle and herself at the other, standing straight and keeping both hands up in a sort of boxing pose, but somehow she still came off as rather relaxed. “CHARGE!”

The dummy sprang to life, running directly at the professor like it was competing in a marathon, its knees kicking sort of high up into the air, and just when Cyrus thought it might just slam into her, the professor pulled her arm back and shot her fist forward and upward, the force of the blow sending the figure flying backwards.

It landed hard on its back outside the other end of the ring, its legs stumbling about in the air like it was trying to find a surface to stand on.

The room suddenly burst with noise.

“WOAH!”

“Merlin’s _beard_!”

“Go _Professor_!”

Amongst the cries of disbelief, Cyrus heard Nolan’s voice call out in surprise. “That was just a few _seconds_ worth?”

Professor Flemming grinned proudly, flexing her fingers and moving to stand the now-immobile dummy back up. “Neat, huh? Let’s go by vertical rows, here - Rowan, you’re up first.”

One by one, the students proceeded up to the edge of the ring and did their best to punch the running dummy in either the stomach or rib cage, sometimes having more than one try. Ten rounds later, and only three people had made the dummy successfully fall over.

“Try to put in as much force as you can behind your punch,” the professor advised after Leslie had only made the dummy stumble two steps on her second attempt. “Remember, we’re practicing for a fight where you’re wandless. _Don’t hold back_!”

Cyrus stepped up next, feeling everyone’s eyes on him as the professor stood the dummy right back up. He clenched and unclenched his fist, preparing to throw all he had in the hit. The red figure looked very intimidating, all of the sudden, with its eerie stillness, just waiting for the command to run at him. It was like something out of a horror movie, or one of those PlayStation games Felix owned.

But unlike those, he couldn’t use a wand, or a heavy pipe, or anything. It was just his fists… And he had never really punched anything before.

“Ready?” Professor Flemming asked, standing off to the side to watch as she did every match, one hand on her hip and the other loose by her side. Cyrus nodded; this was as ready as he’d ever be. “CHARGE!”

The dummy ran at him, and Cyrus felt the instinct to just run as far as possible away from the headless, armless thing. No… No, he’d have to be brave, he’d have to pretend to be Felix and just punch it!

He didn’t think to aim anywhere in particular - his whole arm hurt from holding the tension, he just cared about getting that thing away from him as fast as possible - and he ended up hurling his fist into the center of its stomach, feeling the padding underneath his knuckles give.

It stumbled backwards by a single step, wobbling slightly.

“Ceasefire!” Professor called, and the dummy froze in place. “Good try, Cyrus. Want to have another go?”

Cyrus felt his stomach plop at his feet. It barely moved from all the force he had put into that one punch. He’d been scared of the stupid thing, felt the muscles in his arm harden, but he _still_ couldn’t hit hard enough. “No, that’s...okay.”

“Alright then, back you go - will the next contestant please step forward!”

Cyrus felt like he was walking across the grounds, with how far away Stan and Nolan seemed...

And then he noticed it, behind the crowd, sitting on one of the backwards wooden chairs that sat on one of the desks.

Peeves was sitting there, watching them, with his arms and chin resting on the chair back. He must’ve been sitting hunched over with his knees on the seat, and drawn the other chairs closer to him to help hide him. His ever-present grin wasn’t as nearly as wide or as malicious as it usually was, but his black eyes were glittering like he’d found a cache of noisemakers just sitting around.

Cyrus pretended not to notice.

“Does your hand hurt, too?” Nolan asked, rubbing his joints. “That thing might’ve been soft, but I swear I’m going to have cramps...”

“Yeah, a little.” Honestly, his forearm felt worse, but really all he was concerned about was why Peeves looked so interested behind them…

He could easily see Peeves moving the dummy and making it run down the hall towards the professor when her back was turned, or maybe putting its arms back on and getting it to flail around at her… Did Professor Flemming even _know_ he was there? Or did she just not care?

 _She’s an ex-Auror, though,_ a voice in the back of his mind said. _She’s bound to know he’s there. She probably just doesn’t want to confront him in the middle of class._

Though...she had only said she had been an Auror for five years. She might have been a _terrible_ Auror, at least by British wizard standards, for all they knew. She might have been _fired_ for being so bad…

She never did mention why she wasn’t an Auror anymore. Or at least if she did, Cyrus had completely forgotten… Maybe he should go look that up later. _Wait, they wouldn’t have anything on her, she’s not famous or anything… I really don’t want to just ask, that’d be rude. Maybe Nolan knows… He can make it up to me by finding it out…_ Though, he wasn’t really too angry with Nolan anymore. He’d just have to sit him down in their dorm and tell him he didn’t have a crush on Audrey at all. Audrey was just kind of pretty, that was it. Nothing more. _Well, I mean, she’s fairly smart, too, and she’s kind of interesting… But that doesn’t mean I fancy her!_

Apparently Cyrus had zoned out for a whole four rounds, as Irene Yate’s twin ponytails passed his field of vision, and Cyrus simultaneously wanted to watch and turn away to avoid even having to look at her. There was no way the smallest girl in the year was going to hit harder than him.

Professor Flemming called for ready, and Irene went into a bouncing boxer pose. A large Slytherin boy at the end couldn’t hold back his snicker, and Cyrus felt his mouth twitch partway into a smile as Nolan muttered “this should be interesting” under his breath. Stan remained silent, keeping his arms folded and his eyes squarely on the Hufflepuff girl, looking just as observative as he had been with everyone else.

The dummy sprang forward, and Irene, barely batting an eyelash, punched it squarely in the kidney.

It fell over with a hard thud, and there was a brief moment of total silence before several girls gave hollars of victory.

“Wow, five more points to Hufflepuff,” Professor Flemming said with a broad, impressed smile, writing Irene’s name on the chalkboard with the other three students who had successfully knocked the figure over. “Who’s next?”

Irene walked away beaming, and Cyrus pretended to be looking at the names on the blackboard as she passed their group. She and Audrey passed each other and gave a high-five.

“Go, Audrey!” Kelly shouted excitedly.

“Yeah, Hayburth, show it who’s boss!” Leslie hissed, having moved to join Kelly and Irene.

“Knock it flat!” Irene piped up.

Audrey had a small smile on her face until she stepped inside the rectangle, and her usual serious expression returned. She posed, bending somewhat, her arm back and her fist curled, ready to strike.

“Ready?” Professor Flemming asked knowingly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The dummy took off at the signal, and rushed towards her just as fast as it did for Cyrus, but unlike him, or Irene, or anyone else, Audrey was completely immobile, keeping her eyes locked right at the figurelike it had a target painted on it. Her punch looked slower, but she seemed to have calculated the timing for that, and punched the training doll right in the solar-plexus with only a squint.

Cyrus expected it to fall right over a step or two away, but it seemed to fly backwards in an arch, as if being pulled by a wire, and it landed halfway outside the end of the ring with a hefty _thunk_.

There was a complete uproar of cheers and applause, and Cyrus found himself clapping along with the rest, even as his brain was reeling over how incredible it had all looked in motion. Her braided ponytail swinging with her movement, her steely focus, and the pink flush Audrey had now made for a somehow very pretty combination.

Though it seemed all she could do right them was stare at the training dummy in what looked like surprise.

“WOW, I think that definitely calls for fifteen points to Slytherin! Congratulations, Audrey!” Professor Flemming grinned proudly down at the girl, looking like she was absolutely bursting with joy. “There’s no doubt you’ve got the ability… Good thing it’s not banned in magical sports, eh?”

“Professor,” she said over the few remaining cheers, “do you...have to think about it when you use it?”

“It’s more like flexing another set of muscles, really, but thinking about it does help, yeah.”

Audrey went quiet and thoughtful, going back to stare at the dummy again. “Alright...”

“Okay, who’s ready to follow _that_ act?”

The rest of the class didn’t get close to passing the high note of Audrey’s incredible knock-out, but when it ended, there was still a buzz of excitement in the room as the crowd slowly dispersed into the hallway and down towards whatever class they had next. For him and Nolan, it was going to be Divination, and Stan was heading to Arithmancy.

Cyrus had half a mind to stay behind so he could see exactly what Peeves was up to. The Professor could undoubtedly take care of herself, but Cyrus had the feeling that Peeves was still hidden away in the corner…

Still, the crowd of kids pushed him out the classroom anyway, and Nolan tugged him aside after they waved goodbye to Stan partway down the hall.

“Cyrus, I’m sorry about goading you earlier,” he said abruptly, looking more at his feet than his friend. “I didn’t get a chance to say it ‘til now...”

“It’s alright.” He _really_ wasn’t that mad anymore. “But I don’t want you going around telling people I fancy... _you know_ ,” he said quietly, minding the fact that Audrey’s group just passed them.

Nolan’s deep brown eyes met his. “You know I wouldn’t tell anybody else if it were true, right? I mean, Stan… You know he’s pretty oblivious to the whole _romantic_ bit. I just thought, what with Slughorn’s party and the library incident… And you have been looking at her a _lot_ , you know.”

“That doesn’t mean I-!” Cyrus stopped himself, and sighed. “Just forget it. Go on ahead and save a good pouf for me, would you? I’m going to go use the restroom first.”  

“Uh, alright… See you upstairs.”

Cyrus walked back towards the classroom, figuring he would just have a quick peek to make sure Peeves was gone before going off to the loo. It couldn’t hurt, surely…

He could just make out the last fourth-year turning the corner in the distance. He was alone in the hall, now… The cloudy sky streaming in through the small windows brightened it up only so much.

A familiar laugh hit his ears. But it was...different. Lighter. Not Peeves’ usual manic cackle.

“Of _course_ I watched the whole thing,” the poltergeist said slyly. “You _invited_ me, didn’t you?”

“I kind of retracted that invite,” Flemming answered. Cyrus stood stock still, curiosity overwhelming him.

“Tut, tut, Phlegmy, I thought you’d know better. You said I couldn’t _come along_ . Never said I couldn’t come on my _own_ … What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Flemming said somewhat unconvincingly. “So, you like my training dummy?”

“Can _I_ have a go?” He asked in a voice that Cyrus knew spelt ‘up to no good’.

“Ha, you wish. I’m pretty sure I’d be killed if I brought this thing back with damages… I have a feeling you’d hit it out the window.”

“Fine. Can I at least watch you fight it? It can do that, can’t it?”

“You can come back and watch the sixth years tackle it tomorrow. I’ll be demonstrating kicks, then, too. The seventh years are the luckiest bunch, though,” she said with a snort. “I’m actually going to show the vital points and stomp on this guy’s neck.” There was a _thwack_ , like the witch had slapped the dummy’s back or something. “You’d prefer to see that, wouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then next time I catch you picking on my students during class hours, don’t go running your mouth,” Professor Flemming added harshly. “You _know_ I have trouble remembering the damn layout. There was no need to embarrass me in front of the kids like that…”

“Oh, I don’t know, _Professor_ ,” Peeves replied in a tone that made Cyrus feel like he really shouldn’t be listening. “It was nice to see you get a bit _flustered_.”

“Peeves,” she grated out, and Cyrus heard the heavy footfalls of her boots. “I’m _serious_ . Don’t do it again.” There was a pause, and her voice got a lot gentler:  “ _Please_.”

“Hm, fine. Since you asked _nicely_ … See you later, _Professor_.”

It went quiet, and Cyrus peeked around the door to see if Flemming was distracted. Peeves must have drifted through part of the wall in a rare silent exit; Professor Flemming was shoving one of the dummy’s red arms back in its sockets, her back turned to him.

Cyrus took off his shoes so the witch wouldn’t know he had been there listening, and he didn’t feel his arms stop trembling with the worry that he’d be caught until he made it to the bathroom, where he finally allowed himself to wonder just how chummy his professor and the castle’s poltergeist really were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's been TWO years since I started writing this!!! I mean, technically, that anniversary should've been last month, but, uh, I had a bit of a delay with how to explain all this new world-building. 
> 
> You might've already guessed, but I based the RoR’s brain after Neon Genesis Evangelion’s “Magi System”; it was a trio of super-computers that each held a human brain as a main component (I’m thinking a motherboard, but it it’s never explained in the story). Whose brains were they? No one knows. It’s a complete mystery. Similarly, the mystery of whose brain controls the RoR is not meant to be solved...by me, anyway. I like leaving some things for you guys to think about!
> 
> The RoR seriously puzzled me in terms of magical logic for the longest time. Snape said that legilimency is not “mind-reading, as the muggles call it”, it’s sorting through memories and your feelings during/surrounding those memories. The room’s operations could make sense if it could perform legilimency - it’s potentially why you have to think about what you need three times while being in front of it. (1’s not counted, 2 is the definitive need but not enough time has passed, but 3 is really the memory of 1&2 finally coming on the radar, so the room will open. And if you're wondering how Danny and Peeves opened it in ch. 17 without really moving… Well, it was never specified how _much_ you had to move. You could probably just turn your head a couple of times and it would work. They never get into it during OoTP, Harry just walks the whole hall three times which is frankly overkill.) But if legilimency isn’t “mind-reading”, why can it read your thoughts when you’re inside? It’s possible that it just needs to be in close range, but if you can only read a person’s memory, then it shouldn’t be able to have instantly summoned a whistle for Harry when he thought “I need a whistle” in OoTP! It should’ve taken a moment or two! It should’ve taken time to make anything at all, let alone know exactly what people really wanted inside and make the decision to include/exclude what it wanted! Therefore, I conclude that 1) Snape  & the Wizarding World are wrong about the human mind’s abilities 2) telepathy exists in the HP universe 3) the Room of Requirement can read your mind but has a clause in it’s “programming” that only allows the fulfillment of needs, not wants/desires. Why? I don’t know! It’s canon that it can’t just create anything on a mere whim! This is really one of the things I would want to read in Rowling’s notes!
> 
> Another thing I always wondered was how those defense books got into the room during OoTP when they weren’t in the library (or Hermione would’ve totes taken them out); but now there’s an easy explanation! Either the room of Hidden Things within the RoR had them, or someone else in the castle had them (probably Dumbledore). I figured it was _possible_ that the room could make things that had been inside the castle at one point, but weren’t anymore, but I found that illogical. Ravenclaw’s diadem shouldn’t appear anymore, since it was completely destroyed, and anything hidden away that hasn’t been completely in view/has been enchanted with no-tracking charms/something similar can’t be created, and naturally, since everything is just a manifested copy, nothing the room creates can be removed. I mean, come on - otherwise it would be known as the Room of Convenience! You have to draw the line somewhere! 
> 
> (Honestly, as much as I love the idea of being able to generate an instant sex dungeon with extravagant toys and props and the biggest, silkiest modern-Victorian bed you could think of in the RoR, it’s a pretty silly trope. I think the movies really didn’t sell the reality of the RoR right, giving the idea of being able to conjure up whatever you thought of in your exact imagination, like that Death Eater target that got blasted to smithereens with _reducto_ , rather than just what the Room knows as a target. Yes, I know, it’s just a movie, and they can’t show every tiny detail of what happens… But when you think about just how the RoR might work, you realize you’d have to transfigure everything yourself to get it to your exact taste. That would take forever!!!)
> 
> A few last things before I go: 1) I hope you guys are okay with more OCs! Leslie's surname is based off Jeffery Combs, who plays Dr. Herbert West in _Re-Animator_. I don't know why I wrote "Leslie" and immediately thought of him... But I hereby decree that her dad's a scientist! 2) I am a giant nerd, if you didn't already know. 3) The fact that no one in the HP world never used their magic to give an extra-powerful punch/kick to a Death Eater is one of the biggest wasted opportunities. **Give me the Superhero AU of HP!!!**


	19. Strange Ideas from Strange Places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! BUT THANK YOU FOR 500+ HITS!!! Wow!!!! You guys are so cool! I hope you’ll accept smut as a thank-you! ★~(◠‿◕✿) 
> 
> IMPORTANT SPOILER TAGS: anal play, [even more] dirty talk

Cyrus cast another look over his copy of  1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi , trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible at the empty library table. It’d been a sort of restless night, thoughts and ideas floating around his brain as he tried in vain to sleep while Nolan snored lightly from the next bed. But here he was, bright and early, sneaking glances at Audrey Hayburth from across the room as he tried to work up the guts to go over to her.

He’d been in denial for a few weeks. She was just _pretty_ , he thought, with her green eyes and smooth black hair. And kind of cool, with that mysterious air to go along with her serious Quidditch skills and newfound ability to magically boost her strength. But he kept noticing her out of the corner of his eye or hearing her ask questions in class - _good_ questions, too - with that calm, raspy voice. And lately he got to sit close enough to her in the dungeons to see her measure and stir with absolute care, and he noticed the steam and shimmer of heat curl around her clear tawny skin.

Yes, Audrey was very, very, _very_ pretty. It took until he had a dream where he tripped over Professor Dandrane’s shii statue and fell through a big hole in the floor before being caught by Audrey flying a giant ladle and kissing him awake to realize that Nolan was, once again, right. Cyrus definitely fancied her.

And he’d been trying to work up the nerve to just pull her outside from class one day and just ask her out for the past week, with various ideas of how to do it. Stan and Nolan tried to give him some space after classes to help, but it seemed Irene or Leslie or _someone_ was always hanging around her, and he really wanted her alone so he wouldn’t make a _complete_ idiot out of himself.

His prime opportunity was right then, though. She was alone there, typical of an early Saturday morning before Quidditch practice, writing something with a normal pen on a compact notebook with a smaller book in front of her. He’d been up half the night thinking about what exactly he was going to say.

 _Just go_ , he told himself. _Just ask if you can join her and slide it into the conversation. No big deal._

Cyrus found himself moving, and the noise his chair made as it slid back was way too loud and obnoxious. Thankfully, Audrey didn’t turn around to look.

Everything was suddenly loud. His book closing, his bag shuffling, the sound his trainers made on the floor, his own breathing, the creaking noises coming from somewhere over the stacks…

His feet moved by themselves, it seemed, until he was right by her table.

“Um, hey.” Audrey looked up at him, her mossy eyes soft under her long dark lashes, and his palms felt very slippery on his bag all of the sudden. “Can, uh… Can I join you?”

“Sure.”

Cyrus had never sat faster in his life. _Okay, what do I ask - what are you working on? No, that’s too lame. The last Quidditch match? Wait, she played in it, she knows what happened... She’s looking at me!_ “So, Valentine’s is coming up!” _...bollocks._

“Yes, I suppose it is,” she replied simply, going back to writing. He heard the scratch of her pen and the screech of wood under pressure from somewhere far.

His throat felt tense and dry, despite it being perfectly fine before he sat down. “Are you - uhm - going with anyone that weekend? To Hogsmeade?”

She paused for a second before crossing something out. “Leslie, Kelly, and I are planning on visiting the bookshop.” The scribbling began again. He had half a mind to peek at it, but thought better. It was her business. “I really wish we could go to London instead, they have a better variety of stuff.”

“Heh, yeah, I know…” Cyrus breathed in deeper, feeling the fresh air calm him a bit. “So, er, I was wondering - do you want to get a drink at Madam Puddifoot’s, or at The Three Broomsticks or something? Like...just us two?”

Audrey blushed pink, and stopped writing altogether, her eyes widening but still staring down at her paper with something akin to panic. “Why are you asking me?”

It was said so quietly it caught Cyrus by surprise, even in the relative stillness of the library. “Oh… Uhm - I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and, er - I like you,” he managed to say.

She was determined to stare at her notebook instead, and she seemed to be gripping her pen a little harder. “You shouldn’t say that…” She sounded different. It was...strained, he guessed? “You should be asking _Irene,_ not me,” she added with more force.

He blinked, feeling utter confusion fill his brain. It was like it was being stuffed with nothing but question marks. “Why would I ask her?”

She swiveled her head towards him fast, her eyebrows furrowed somewhat, and stared at him for a moment as if she was contemplating his intelligence. “Isn’t it _obvious_?” It was not a friendly question. Cyrus’ hopes were sinking like a ship struck by an explosive cannonball. “Why do you think I knew where you sat in Trelawney’s class, when I don’t take Divination? Why do you think I brought her along to Slughorn’s party? Why do you think I didn’t want her to feel upset at seeing me talk to you there?”

These were all good questions, and they were ones he hadn’t thought of at all. He’d forgotten she’d ever mentioned Irene sitting in Divination with him, because he actively tried to ignore the Hufflepuff’s presence in there at all after Yule. He had figured Audrey was just being a good friend during Yule, too…

“Why did you think she talked to you so much then? And has been trying to talk to you again for ages?” Audrey’s stare was rather penetrating. “She’s been talking about you since _September_!”

Oh.

Cyrus disliked the fact that he couldn’t come up with a reasonable answer to why he didn’t want to ask Irene out. He knew it’d be rude to just say it was because he didn’t like her chatty, overly-bubbly nature when he didn’t know much else about her. “I...I just didn’t notice? I mean, you guys are practically opposites...”

Her face was still rather pink, and now she didn’t look at him at all. “I’m flattered,” she said with a slight tremble in her voice as she stood to leave, “but no. I don’t go after my friend’s crushes.”

“Wait, Audrey -”

It was too late. She swept away with her writing tools in her hands, seeming determined not to look at him, and Cyrus felt like his chest suddenly weighed a ton.

He sank back into the chair, barely realizing he’d stood to stop her leaving in the first place, and after berating himself on not putting the puzzle pieces together and making himself sound like an idiot, he packed up and decided to let his feet carry him anywhere else, so long as it was louder than the obnoxious squeaks of creaky chairs.

*~*~*~*~*

Peeves never liked to sit quietly for very long. It irked him, having to sit in stillness, with nothing but ambient noise around. Paper shuffling now and then, the odd footsteps on rug and stone, the shuffle of books being put back, a hushed conversation too far away for his liking…

The library could do with a bit of _proper_ noise now and then, to break up the monotony of it’s usual quiet Saturday morning. Shifting his chair back and forth on it’s hind legs at least provided some kind of mild entertainment; especially when he got it to give a good long _creeeeeeeak._

Of course, the _real_ entertainment there today was watching Dandrane search through the stack of books sitting on the library table. Upon realizing that her normal ‘word-search spell’ wasn’t quite giving her results, she deigned to sit and flip through the ancient volumes with a disgruntled huff, her feet propped on the chair opposite hers under the table as if it were a footstool. Peeves, wanting to stick close to her for as long as possible, had taken the seat next to her; after all, she _had_ politely asked for his assistance.

But searching through books wasn’t his strong suite, so he got bored fast and instead daydreamed about pushing some of the giant stacks over like a massive set of dominoes. He also kept glancing over at the pink-haired witch sitting next to him - he couldn’t help it, she not only stuck out against the darker colors of the library, but they were sitting close enough together that he could feel heat radiating from her. He fought down the urge to just bridge the gap and lean against her shoulder.

Dandrane set another book on Medieval magic history in the steadily-growing pile in the middle of the table. “I still don’t know why you guys don’t have a card catalogue,” she grumbled, opening a book so destitute that it looked as if it would crumble at any moment. “It would make searching for books a lot easier…”

“No point when our librarian knows every piece of paper that passed by here,” Peeves commented as his chair legs gave a short squeak.

She snorted, leafing through the pages of  Magicians of the Age  , scanning the contents so quickly Peeves wondered if the witch was actually reading anything or just waiting for a phrase to jump out at her. “Tell that to the _porn-_ peddler.”

Peeves ceased moving. “The _what_?” He asked with a wide grin.

She finally looked up from her book, the dark lenses of her glasses flashing briefly. “Someone’s been mixing erotica in with the books; I found another one mixed in with biographies while you were shuffling stuff around. Frankly I’m just surprised they were the non-magic variety,” she added with a small, mischievous smile. “They’ve got bad taste, though. I’ve read that one before, the sex was really lacking good descriptions.”

The poltergeist had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud. He had half a mind to go find the thing and just read it there at the table, with no care for who passed by, but Dandrane slid another book in front of him. Still, he was not one to miss the opportunity to tease her, even if he had to be quiet about it. “ _Really_ ? How _so_?”

“Peeves,” she chided, pointing to the book on the table before him, “work first. Besides, we’re in a school library, here.”

“Oh, _please_ , no one’s around _this_ early except two sixth years on the other end of the room. Pince doesn’t start roaming the place until half-past. Just put up a muffling charm!”

“Sorry, Peeves, no dice. You’ll just have to be patient. Besides, you said you’d help me out and I have a feeling you haven’t been looking as carefully as me.”

Peeves stuck his tongue out at her, but went back to leafing through the book in his hands anyway. “Still don’t know why you're bothering. _Know_ how many personal records were destroyed after the plague? Be lucky to find _anything_ pre-1300...”

“I’d like to say I at least tried,” she said, her thumb tapping on the page. “The stuff in history-of-Hogwarts books had to come from _somewhere…_ ”

“Really, Phlegmy,” he said, plopping the book on the table and turning to look at her, “what do you want to _know_?”

It wasn’t a necessary question. He already knew what she was after - she wanted to find out whose brain was floating in a tank upstairs. It disturbed him to think about going back in there, knowing full well someone’s brain was wired to the castle, _looking_ at everything and watching the thoughts of anyone who got close enough to dare be in need of anything… Still, she had the absurd idea that she could find out, somehow, or at least get an idea of whether or not it was a muggle brain. They were supposed to look exactly alike, but she figured there might be some record, _somewhere_ , of someone volunteering their body up for Dark Age science or else stumbling upon the castle during the room’s construction. Peeves had hazarded a guess as to it’s creation (anytime between 994 and 1094, as he couldn’t remember finding the place in his first hundred years there) but couldn’t tell her who precisely had made it.

He wasn’t surprised _that_ note got lost or destroyed somewhere; his tendency to “misplace” papers when people weren’t looking had been going on since as long as he could remember, and even if it wasn’t _him_ who accidentally destroyed it, someone else probably thought it to be complete rubbish at the time and destroyed or buried it on principle. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

She stared down at the book in her lap for a moment. “You know exactly what we’re here for.” She flipped to the end of the book, and finding nothing, added it to the pile. “But I am curious if you really know how much stuff got destroyed during the plague epidemics. I’d say I was surprised it reached the castle, but I know magic folk aren’t immune to disease, even if they like to say otherwise.”

Peeves continued to shift his chair backwards and forwards, but it was a lot slower. “I know _lots_ of things,” he said casually, his usual grin widening. “Though you picked a fun subject. People tended to dislike chucking everything the sick touched onto a giant blaze, especially when another person’s things had to go in. Everyone on edge, people practically bursting every other day - mostly a good time.”

Dandrane quirked a smile, turning away to chuckle to herself. Peeves was rather surprised by this - he figured she’d be more sympathetic to the people of the past. _He_ wasn’t, really, especially since they pointed the finger at anybody who hadn’t been affected as the cause of it.

“‘ _I l_ _ived through the plague and had a pretty good time during that!’_ Oh _man_ ,” she muttered with a barely-restrained snicker. “Ha ha… Sorry, go on,” she said with a little wave of her hand, pulling another book forward to look through.

“Nothing else to really say about it, other than we got a new ghost out of the deal.”

The witch turned towards him, and even though her glasses obscured her eyes, he knew they were probably shining with interest. “ _Really_? Which one?”

“Oh, he’s _long_ gone - ran off to what used to be Constantinople about a decade later and never came back. Got tired of teaching, ‘s my guess. I think I saw him at Nicky’s one-hundredth Deathday party, but that might’ve just been another headless sod with a big thick spot on his neck.”

“He was _headless_ ?” Dandrane raised an eyebrow, putting one elbow on the back of her chair and shuffling more towards him. “How did _that_ happen? I thought ghosts were the impressions of people as they died, not _after_.”

Peeves grinned; he had her full attention now, an increasingly rare thing outside of her rooms. “Funny story, that. The good visiting doctor thought the best way to cure our little scribe’s ailment was a hodgepodge of untested medicinal potions and a good round of leeches. Since it just made him loopier than he already was, the professor made the little mistake of trying to talk, and the doc thought he was possessed - since exorcisms weren’t a _thing_ yet, doc decided to just chop the sick guy’s head right off before the demon could even get out of bed!”

“Well, that’s _one_ way to banish a demon,” Dandrane said with a low laugh. “I bet that guy was surprised to have a detachable head when he came back.”

“Wouldn’t _believe_ how long it took him to get used to it - kept trying to keep it on his neck! I remember he was talking with Helena - back when she _would_ talk, mind you - and they had gotten to the top of the big staircase; I just stepped out of the wall and his head just _fell_ right off! Like, _whooop_!” He made a motion of falling over with his head shirking to the side. “He’d seen me pass through stuff dozens of times, but one death later and his head leaped off his shoulders and rolled down the stairs like a boulder!”

Dandrane was trying not to laugh, actually snickering into her hand and partially covering one of her lenses, as if she didn’t want to entirely look at him. Her cheeks had gone rather pink - not unlike when they were in the midst of some heavy petting. It was enough to make him feel a bit warm, himself. “Did-did he chase after it?”

“He actually tried to _run_ down the stairs! He’d been dead a _month_ and he hadn’t figured out he could just float everywhere! Seeing him go after it was like watching a headless chicken in a robe!”

Dandrane stopped looking at him entirely, her shoulders shaking with stifled laughter.

“He carried it around after that, but it was so easy to make him drop it - one nudge to the elbow or poke in the back and it’d jump to the ceiling! I once managed to dunk it in a vase from ten paces, come to think of it…”

She seemed to find the idea of that _very_ funny, as she covered her entire face with her manicured hands, and he heard her trying to breath in-between giggles. Peeves felt very proud of himself, sitting up straighter and leaning on the back of his chair like she had been doing earlier, and delighted in watching her try to calm down. It was fun to make her laugh; even if it was a stupid joke, she’d still quirk a smile at him. Sure, he figured sometimes she had a very different take of what the joke actually _was_ , but he put it down to a culture-gap, and frankly, as long as she was amused, he didn’t care.

Dandrane finally glanced back at him, her smile barely restrained. “Oh my God,” she said with some strain, “I wish you could see inside my head right now.”

He was about to make a very lewd comment about how much he _already_ saw of her, but a silvery-blue figure floated into view from behind one of the stacks.

“Why, Peeves, what a surprise - not often I see you sitting in the _library_ ,” Sir Nicholas said dryly.

“I’m just surprised he’s actually _been_ sitting,” Dandrane joked. The blush hadn’t faded from her cheeks, and the corner of her mouth twitched.

Peeves snorted. “Can’t float around _all_ day, you know. Must be all this handsome physical _mass_ I have,” he replied, slicking his hair aside and pushing  his chair back onto it’s hind legs so he could continue rocking it. Sir Nicholas was not one for flinching, but it wasn’t necessary - Peeves could tell his jab had made him uncomfortable. “Not here to drag me to another impromptu meeting, are you, Nicky?”

“Just passing through,” the ghost remarked, glancing at the books on the table. “Studying early medieval history, Professor Flemming? I might be able to offer some insights, if you would like.”

“Oh, thank you,” the witch said with a polite smile. “You wouldn’t happen to know when the Room of Requirement was built, would you? Modern pieces only ever mention what went on inside, and Peeves’ estimate here was a hundred-years long,” she said with a bit of a smirk, gesturing at the poltergeist with her thumb.

Peeves could practically see the gears in Sir Nicholas’ head turning; the subject must’ve been a little red flag. “I’m afraid it was here before I was born, Professor. I didn’t know of it myself until I was in my fifth year - and you’ll beg my pardon, but my memory of anything beyond that is rather poor.”

“Eh, that’s alright. Worth a shot.”

“Have you been to the room, yourself?” The ghost asked with a raised brow.

“No, I don’t know how to get in, and Peeves won’t tell me.” Peeves forced himself to not glance over at her, but continue squeaking the chair like nothing was wrong. She was straight-up lying at this point, and he felt deeply appreciative for her, but he also hoped that Nicholas was buying it and Dandrane wouldn’t slip up. He seriously doubted she would, but, as she would say, it was still a possibility... “But I know what it does - and I’ve never heard of anything like it before, so I’m curious on who could’ve made a room like that almost a millenia ago. It’s practically science fiction…” She trailed off, and he snuck a peek - she was looking somewhat resigned. He barely managed to tear his eyes away and focus back on Nick.

Sir Nicholas seemed to be satisfied with that answer, and even gave Peeves an almost _proud_ look for a tiny moment, as if the bare minimum of not spilling the beans about a magic room in a thousand-year-old castle passed the ghost’s expectations of him. “Well, I dare say you wouldn’t be the first person to try and figure that out, but the general consensus of those of us who _have_ visited the room at one time or another is that it was created by Ravenclaw’s founder. Unfortunately, only so much of her work is left behind and referenced here, so it’s just another one of the castle’s many mysteries,” the ghost explained with a completely unnecessary sniff.

“Hear that, Phlegmy? One down, ‘nother hundred or so to go,” he grinned over at her. “ _Told_ you you were wasting time.”

The witch shifted her jaw, seeming to look at the remaining one-and-a-half books not yet flipped through. “I’m still going to go through these. You don’t have to stick around if I’m boring you.”

He knew what she was doing. She was giving him an easy-out; Sir Nicholas could possibly hang around for longer than they anticipated, and Peeves had to admit that the _idea_ of him actually continuing to help was out-of-character enough that it would mark another red flag for ol’ Nicky. Even if he said he was getting _paid_ somehow for his assistance, flipping through texts was still not something Peeves would normally do for anyone, unless held at wand-point. Even though he _wanted_ to stay...

“Thank _Merlin_ ,” he said with what he hoped was an exhausted-looking eyeroll as he lifted himself from the chair; Dandrane wasn’t fast enough to stop it crashing backwards, and he knew she must have winced. “Need some _noise_ ‘round here.”

Dandrane leaned to pick up the chair, but he barely noticed; he was already heading to go through the nearest hallway wall and find something else to do before the witch would go back to her rooms. Maybe he’d comb through more of that slap-shod journal of hers… It should’ve been sitting on the carved chair in his room, but he couldn’t remember if he moved it elsewhere. He’d left off on some Auror case she’d had in Oregon, and he had a feeling it corresponded to one of the marked tapes in her collection. He’d managed to listen to the New York one already, and while it was an interesting tale of a hotel with some strange occurrences, she didn’t manage to catch anything audible on tape, and the “videotape” she talked about setting up in the dining room had mysteriously cut off in the middle of the night, so it came up rather inconclusive…

He hadn’t floated too far down the hall when Sir Nicholas started following him; he didn’t need to turn around to know it.

“Peeves, could I speak to you for a moment?” The gentleman-ghost asked after catching up to him. It wasn’t much different to when a teacher was asking a troublesome student.

“You just _did_ , Nicky.”

“ _Privately_ ,” the ghost pressed. Peeves could already hear the weary annoyance growing in the Gryffindor ghost’s voice.

They passed into the nearest room, which was rather roomy and empty for a storage closet. (Then again, things seemed to get shuffled around a lot each year.) The gloomy grey sky could barely be seen in the old archer’s-hole-turned-windows; the sun was so completely obscured that the hallway torches were still lit, and Peeves had the feeling that they were going to get another round of snow.

“So what is it _now_?” The poltergeist asked, sitting cross-legged in the air as if perched on a bench. Bored of floating and sitting in one place, he chose to bob in the air this time.

Sir Nicholas seemed to be examining him. “A few things, I’m afraid. First of all, I couldn’t help but notice that you were sitting down in one space for an awfully long time in there - at least, long for _you_.”

“Uh-huh, it’s called ‘relaxing’, Nicky. You should try it sometime.” Peeves wondered just how long the ghost had been hanging around back there. Had he heard the whole conversation?

“Secondly, I find it strange that your _amusing_ story of Bleppworth the Beheaded found its way into the conversation.” The way the ghost said it made it sound like it wasn’t amusing at all. Which was stupid, because Bleppworth was nothing but clumsy, dead or alive, and that was _hilarious_ . Well, the ghost’s humor _was_ always a bit off...

“She mentioned the plague,” Peeves answered in more defensive tone than he would have liked. “Just sort of popped up. ‘S a good story, anyway.”

“I see,” the ghost said skeptically. “Any guesses on why she’s so interested in the Come-and-Go Room?”

Peeves rolled his eyes. Who _wasn’t_ curious about it, once they heard of it? “Oh come on, Nick - _everyone_ knows about the Dumbledore’s Army story, now. You think people aren’t interested in it’s magic clubhouse?”

“Does she know where it is?”

“Headmistress moved the tapestry in front of it during her first year, didn’t she? Shuffled the castle decor around so no one was any the wiser? _No one_ knows exactly where it is anymore.” He stared down the ghost, feeling brazen. It wasn’t a _total_ lie; he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, especially Dandrane, but he had to count the stone bricks on the wall from the nearest window to know which part of the wall the door would be on. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t know exactly where it was, either. “You officially joining the paranoia train, Nicky? Going to start tailing me around?”

Sir Nicholas sighed. “You _know_ I have to ask these things, now, Peeves. It’s a matter of security, making sure the professor isn’t learning too much. Certain stories and facts are to _remain_ covered up, as we discussed before…”

“Never went into detail, though,” Peeves said slyly with a bit of his usual mischievous flare. “How am I to know exactly which ones to avoid? ‘Ve been doing a good job so far, but you never know…”

The house-ghost was growing more annoyed by the minute. “You should _already_ know which ones I’m talking about, Peeves. The press may have learned about some of the things that happened during Harry Potter’s years, but they don’t know about Sirius Black’s escape from the castle, or any of your little _incidents_ ,” he said with a note of disdain. “I don’t want to imagine what would happen if people knew _you_ once held the castle hostage… Not to mention that time you leaked garrotting gas in the dungeons-”

“That wasn’t me!” Peeves insisted for what felt like the millionth time. It was decades ago, but since no one could say they saw him at the time, the blame was put squarely on him, and he still remembered how angry the Baron had gotten with him. If the ghost had the ability to actually touch him, Peeves was sure he would’ve been beaten, if not left to bleed out on the floor after _that_ talk. “‘M a lot of things, but I’m not a _murderer_. Wasn’t an _accident_ , either, _I was on the bloody_ _seventh floor_ -”

“Yes, yes, I know your side of the story, Peeves, but you can’t _still_ expect us to believe that a _teacher_ would’ve done it and not copped to it being an accident,” he said with a tired expression. “My point is, these things are just more of the castle’s secrets, and you are to _keep_ them secret, _no matter what,_ ” he added somewhat mysteriously.

“Don’t know why you think so little of me,” Peeves grumbled. “ _Been_ keeping my mouth shut.” _For the most part._

“Because this is a complicated situation, Peeves, and… Well,” he added warily, “I know that this has lead to the most amount of proper socialization you’ve had with a member of the living - and a _lady_ , at that - but you should be keeping your _guard_ up around her. I fear that you may be... _slipping_ in that area.”

“...you really should just say what you mean, Nicky. ‘S dangerous, otherwise.”

He seemed to examine him a moment, the cogs in his head whirring frantically, no doubt. “You have the habit of doing the opposite of what anyone says, Peeves, but you _must_ listen closely to this one:   don’t go... _chasing_ after the woman. It’s dangerous to even fancy the _idea_ that you’re in love with her in any such capacity, you know. If you...” The ghost went on, but it might as well have been white noise for how much Peeves was listening.

It was a strange idea, him being in love. Peeves had been around for a millenia, and he had seen countless people group off together and declare their love for one another, but he had never fully understood it. Peeves knew the _concept_ , of course, but he never related to the poetry and sickeningly-sweet words that were inspired by romance. Hell, up until getting close to Dandrane, he didn’t even understand the real point behind all the hands-on bits.

And yet… Maybe that’s what all the weird jumbly emotions he had been getting was about. He certainly liked her - and it wasn’t like the other rare instances he liked people. He had never been so keen to see someone, or cared enough to help them in a way that wouldn’t directly benefit him, and certainly had never felt the urge to be as close as physically possible with a person. He _definitely_ never fantasized or daydreamed about someone before, either…

It was certainly something to think about.  

“...of course, this is a gentlemen’s confidence. I’ll only mention it to the others if I absolutely _need_ too.”

Peeves figured that meant Nick would only squeal on his possible emotional-doings if the ghost thought Peeves was completely out of their control. “Er, thanks, Nick.”

“We may be on opposing sides sometimes, Peeves, but I would never betray someone’s private life in such a manner.”

No, of course he wouldn’t. Sir Nicholas de Mimsey-Porpington was chivalrous enough not to talk about a person’s secret affections, be they alive or not - not that it’d make sense for Peeves to confess anything to him.

“Better not let Harriet hear you say that, she’d take it as a challenge,” Peeves joked with a grin; Sir Nicholas’ mustache twitched, but he wasn’t sure if the ghost was trying not to smile or not.  “‘Preciate the gesture, Nicky, but I’m not going to ‘chase after’ _anyone_.”

The house-ghost looked somewhat doubtful, which made Peeves wonder just how obvious he was when he was flirting away with Dandrane, but he seemed to accept the answer anyway, and they parted in opposite directions after one last fruitless warning for Peeves to stay out of trouble.

Of course, Peeves was being honest about not going after her - it was pointless, since he’d _already_ caught hold of her. He just didn’t know how firm his grip had gotten... Or really, how much she was gripping him back.

*~*~*~*~*

Sure enough, it started snowing that afternoon, and kept going until late in the evening. Dandrane, after a day partially spent researching and coming up with nothing, had been dead-set on lying on the vintage couch in the fuzziest, thickest socks she owned and reading for hours, with the excuse of it being too cold to move around any more than necessary. The good thing about this activity was that Peeves could either lie on top of her or, if she was sitting upright, put his head in her lap and either listen to whatever music tape she had laying around or read whatever he wanted, and aside from ridiculous novella, she had a good amount of muggle comics that he found entertaining.

The bad thing was that not only was she also covered in a zig-zag stripe _knit_ thing, which made it much harder to feel her natural body-heat, but she wasn’t as talkative when she was reading something she was very invested in, and unlike the Azkaban book, whatever she was reading wasn’t making her think aloud. So Peeves lay there, thinking what felt like a million things with his head on her lap, the only noise being the occasional turn of a page and the constant crackling of the fireplace.

It was hard to concentrate on reading the _Men In Black_ trade-book she’d brought back from home when his mind kept trying to wrap itself around the concept of what being in love really meant.

It was difficult to tell exactly what the difference was between supposedly being in love with her and just being attracted to her. Was it normal to just look at someone and feel a twinge of excitement? Ever since he watched her fight the training dummy in each of her classes, he got this sort of light feeling in his head just by looking at her, this witch who could break a person’s nose with the palm of her hand and kick them to the floor, this _beautiful_ woman who had apparently once caught a wannabe-Death Eater without a wand. The idea was amazing enough, but seeing an example of it in _person…_ The sex the evening after her demonstration to the seventh years had her panting and being almost incapable of speech, for once. But did all that count, or was it just physical attraction? He glanced up at her, wondering what she’d say if he just asked her if she knew. She must’ve been in love before, having had several boyfriends before him…

He squinted up, contemplating what exactly to say, even as a glance at her made that weird little something in him stir. Dandrane’s lips were curled into an amused smile, and he heard a disbelieving snort in her breath before it turned into a little chortle, and despite the swirl of thoughts, he became curious.

“What _are_ you reading?”

“One of the books Jill gave me for Christmas. She reads the first few pages to determine if it’s good enough to get, but she never thinks to flip to the middle to see if it holds up the whole way through,” she explained, glancing down at the blanket over her lap. “I still can’t believe the sneaky little devil wrapped _three_ books in this thing...”

Peeves rolled his eyes; she missed the point of his question. “Then what’s so _funny_?”

“So, it started out as a decent detective novel of a private eye tracking down an elusive killer for a client, but every couple of chapters it cuts to some other ‘mysterious’ character’s perspective, and now there’s this awkward scene where that character is having _sex_ with the detective after meeting them at a bar, apparently, talking about the thrill and whatever - but I swear, this writer has _no_ idea of how anal works. Or romantic tension, for that matter - it’s nothing but ‘wow, you’re hot and you’re eyes are like sapphires! Fuck me harder!’” She exaggerated with an over-dramatic imitation of a swoon. “This is a character that’s supposed to be growing _obsessed_ with the detective, but there’s like, _zero_ real emotion in it. And I already _knew_ the detective was queer, he mentioned his last boyfriend-slash-assistant dying a couple of years ago _at the beginning of the story_ , so this bit of character development is completely _useless_ . So unless this ends up being a fantasy dream or it turns out the guy fucking the mystery character isn’t _actually_ the detective, this is a big mischaracterization.”

Peeves felt like this was his real chance to ask what would’ve made it romantic versus not. He just had to choose words carefully…

“And, I mean, what made me laugh is that on _top_ of this crap, the mystery-guy is supposed to be _used_ to being penetrated, but the description reads like his ass is a vagina that hasn’t been touched before.” She looked down at him, her eyes shimmering with humor, and her smile slowly grew into something more knowing. “What’s that look for? Something I say catch your interest?”

“Er…” _How the fuck am I supposed to ask anything with a dirty conversation like this?!_ “‘Ve been...thinking…” His whole body felt very warm, all of the sudden.

Oh, now she looked much more excited. She laid her book-holding arm on the armrest, giving him an almost wolfish grin. “Uh-huh.”

He couldn’t say it. His tongue felt tied and his face unnaturally warm. He didn’t know how on Earth he could bring up the phrase ‘I might be in love with you but I don’t really know _please explain_ ’ without making himself sound like an idiot or killing the mood she was setting up.

He must have been taking too long to say anything, because the witch’s grin shrank a bit and she poked him gently on the cheek. “You’re too cute when you’re nervous, you know that?” She said in the sort of low voice that he associated with her bed. “I won’t judge you.”

 _You would for this_ , he thought. He’d weird her out for asking, he was _sure_ of it. What kind of man didn’t know what love was? Yeah, he’d keep it to himself... Maybe, on the last day together, he’d say something… It hurt to think about that, though. It made things in his torso ache and feel unpleasantly heavy.

Dandrane was gazing down at him with an excited gleam in her icy blue eyes, and for all the patience she had, he knew he was taking far too long to answer. He blurted out what he figured she wanted to hear. “You haven’t, uhm, pegged me yet…”

“Hmm, true - but we have to work our way up to that.” Oh yes, he had flipped the ‘on switch’. “We could try something _now_ , if you’d like.”

It wasn’t like Peeves wasn’t curious about it, anyway. She’d been prodding around down there a bit the last few times they were having sex, and even though it wasn’t quite the same as having leather rub down there like the first time, her fingers did elicit a kind of hot sensation anyway. He could use the distraction, in any case…

Books and blanket were set aside, and Peeves found himself being pulled over her lap by his rear end. He managed not to squeal this time, at least - he felt his face warm itself, though.

“That’s better,” the witch purred, pushing him slightly so he’d kneel over her, her body-heat instantly warming the sides of his calves. All she had to do was lean her head back slightly, look at him with hooded bedroom eyes, and curve those pretty, shimmery pink lips into an enticing grin, and he felt like he absolutely had to kiss her. He covered her mouth with his, feeling a grin of his own spread on his face, and his knees sank into the cushion rather than just brush the surface of it. He was barely aware of loosely putting his arms around her neck, leaving them to rest on the back of the couch.

Thoughts only turned to _what will she do_ as their tongues glided against one another, each pushing the other around as magic and the weird fleshy taste of muscle and saliva coated their tastebuds. Peeves knew very well he was practically getting addicted to these sorts of kisses - it made him feel like he was eating a mild fizzing candy, but instead of just flavored sugar it was magic that he consumed, along with the satisfaction of making the witch he liked more than anyone _very_ happy. He found himself thinking about just making out with her sometimes - usually when he was alone and thinking about her - and when they weren’t feeling too frisky they had at least _one_ of these when they could get together.

He didn’t even care that he was making a funny noise when she dug her fingers into his backside. He certainly paid attention when he felt her undo his trousers and shuffle them down, but that was because the act alone was hot. He was never so happy not to make a habit of wearing wear pants than when her bare hands smoothed over his ass.

“I’m still surprised you don’t have to wear a belt or anything, babe,” she commented as they parted for her to take a breath of air. “Does magic just hold your trousers up or something?”

“ _May_ be,” he said with a tiny giggle. “They _might_ just fit me perfectly.”

She snapped her fingers, and he heard a drawer open in the other room before her hand cupped his sack, and he felt his entire body twitch. Dandrane smirked at him, one of her hands squeezing his ass-cheek and the other fiddling with his penis, coaxing it to harden. Not that it took much when she was touching him so boldly after a long kiss like that anyway - the heat from her hands practically made him melt, lighting up all of his nerves’ ends, making his brain’s pleasure-center send out more of whatever chemical or magical component it was that made him feel so damn good.

She stopped caressing his butt to catch a small plastic bottle before it hit either of them - even in his gradually-fogging head, he recognized it instantly. _Lube_. Specifically, the one that smelled sort of like sex itself, an odd combination of heady musk and salty sweat; she had another that was “water-based” despite having a rather peculiar odor, but they both served their purpose of making her nice and slick.

“Know what I like?” Dandrane asked, taking both of her hands away to put some of the lube on her fingers. She’d painted her newly-trimmed nails a smooth purple, and it was oddly arousing to see the white goo drip onto them and be rubbed around. Maybe because it looked so much like his spunk… “That you’re always so _eager_. I swear, you’re so easy, I’m surprised no one’s tried seducing you before,” she teased.

Peeves’ lips twitched into a small grin. “No one else is potty enough to even think about it.”

“Lucky me.” Dandrane’s unlubed hand returned to his backside, where she squeezed hard, and Peeves couldn’t help but straighten himself upright as a squeak made it past his lips. He wouldn’t say it, but he rather liked the feel of her nails digging into him. “Bend forward more, please.”

Peeves shuffled his legs back a bit as her grip loosened. Her lubed hand - which had been positioned against his hip so the sticky stuff wouldn’t get on his clothes - moved to place the index finger over his anus, and he felt a mix of nerves and thrill spike.

“Now, now, my hot little poltergeist,” she soothed in low voice with a teasing grin, “I’ll be gentle. Just tell me if it hurts or you want to stop.”

Peeves wasn’t quite sure what to expect it to feel like, but her finger slid in rather easily, and it felt... _weird_. The warmth spreading to his insides certainly felt nice, but other than that, it just felt kind of awkward. Like something was there that shouldn’t really be.

“Now, let’s see… Your prostate should be around here somewhere,” she said, watching Peeves’ face as he leaned over her, staring at her hairline. Her finger slid inside him as far as it could, and he felt a twinge of something as she pulled it out to her first knuckle, but then she started moving it as she slowly made her way back in. It was like a thick worm twitching around in there, searching for something, and then, the tip of her finger pushed slightly in at one spot, and Peeves felt a much bigger twinge of arousal. _That_ must’ve been it.

“There,” he said firmly, “ _right there_.”

“Oh, you mean _here_ ?” she mocked, rubbing the area a little harder, and Peeves couldn’t help but let out a little _‘ooh’_ . “Is _this_ where you want Professor Flemming to touch?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he replied harshly, playfully glaring down at her.

“Hm? Didn’t quite get that,” she snickered, thrusting her finger in as slowly as she could.

“Yes, _Professor_.”

Her icy eyes sparked and she smirked wider as she pressed his prostate again, and he leaned a tad forward involuntarily. “That’s better.” He might never learn exactly why she was got so excited when he called her that, but the result was always great, especially in public, where it was hard for her to fight down the flush that always came to her cheeks.

Dandrane fingered him faster, rolling over the bizarre pleasure-point each time, and Peeves was beginning to understand why men might feel embarrassed by the whole thing. He certainly felt vulnerable, kneeling half-naked above her, letting her play with with his asshole like this and making him hard without even touching his cock.

She pushed her finger to one side for a moment, almost taking it away completely, and slipped in her middle digit with it this time, stretching the hole somewhat; he felt it clench around them, and she waited until it stopped before dipping in further, where it clamped harder around the intruding fingers, heat and pleasure sizzling from his insides.

He knew she was watching him carefully, and he could _feel_ her getting turned on by the shift of the atmosphere, but he couldn’t hold her gaze for more than a few moments. The fog of pleasure was getting to the point where it clouded any distractions, and his body felt delightfully weighted, so he could only slump forward onto her when she started squirming her fingers around inside and making a scissoring motion, making him hum and groan.

“I’m adding another,” Dandrane said casually, pulling back and stretching him further with three fingers, all squished together in a sort of triangular pattern. He shifted his hips, bucking at her once, partially out of surprise at how damn good it felt. “Look at you, the castle poltergeist, getting hard as a woman fingers your ass. What _would_ people say?”

“‘Look at that lucky bastard’,” Peeves answered slowly, grunting as the witch beneath him hit the pleasure-point. Fuck, she was really spreading him open, it felt so weird, so invasive, so damn fucking _good_ . He had no doubt people would find this whole act weird if they saw it; a lady taking charge in the bedroom wasn’t exactly _new_ , but this was all definitely on the ‘List of Things That Are Simply Not Done’ that society had written on some imaginary post-board. The only thing more taboo was if she was bending him completely naked over a desk - the thought thrilled him further.

“Man, I can’t _wait_ to peg you,” she teased, pushing at his prostate in quicker, shorter motions. “You make the best faces when you’re turned on - it’s like you're in denial, but you’re so _obviously_ enjoying yourself. And those _noises_ ,” she grunted, grabbing his dick with her free hand, making him moan, “What I wouldn’t give to catch _those_ on tape...”

Peeves knew his face was burning, but the idea of being recorded on tape as they had any sort of sex was incredibly arousing. He _knew_ he was noisy, but when Dandrane got going, she could be pretty vocal, and getting to hear himself get her to the point where she was moaning and gasping… Dandrane was stroking his aching cock way too slowly for his liking right now. He wanted to come. _Needed_ to. In her, on her, he didn’t care.

“Danny,” he started to plea - he didn’t need to finish his sentence, though, because she took her hand off his hard-on and placed it back on his ass, where she squeezed gently. He looked down at her, trying to glare to send her the message that she took it away too soon, but it was difficult when he was getting that nice sensitive spot in his hole rubbed over and over - it made it hard to think. But he could think enough to pull one hand away from her and start pumping himself furiously.

“You want to _come_ , huh?” Dandrane leaned up to put her face close to his. “Your cock aching? Your balls bluer than normal? You want to come _all over me_?”

 _YES_ , he wanted to screech, tired of her taunting game. He glared down at her defiantly, stroking himself as he thought of coming on her face somehow. But she was right there, so close he could smell her breath, so he did the next best thing and kissed her hard, the hand still around her neck shooting to her hair so he could keep her where he wanted her.

Having three sensitive body parts stimulated at the same time was a little overwhelming, but he felt like he was floating and sinking at the same time as magic pumped blazing hot through every inch of his form, the desperate climb to an orgasm getting shorter each second the poltergeist’s mouth was pressing and moving against Dandrane’s as their tongues clashed together and her nimble fingers pushed and wriggled against the little knot in his rear.

Peeves’ body seized a second before he came, feeling hot spurts of cum release as he clutched the witch’s short hair in the need to hold onto something, and he heard her make a sharp noise before his entire body relaxed. He pulled away, mouth tender and face hot, and expected to see something similar.

Except she pulled back with a teary-eyed frown. That hadn’t happened before.

“You shit, that _hurt_ ! Oww,” she snapped her hand - the one that had been on his asscheek - to her neck and rubbed the back of her head as her sticky fingers pulled out of him. “I _told_ you I don’t like my hair pulled!”

Oh bloody fucking hell. “I - are you okay?!” Peeves asked frantically. He fucked up. He broke that rule without even _thinking_ . “I didn’t mean to, I _swear-_ ”

The witch gave him a skeptic look. “If you didn’t like me teasing you-”

“No, that’s not it!” He said angrily. He was trying to apologize here! “I just-” He sounded cross. He stopped and took a quick breath; he needed the air anyway. “I wasn’t thinking. It was a _mistake_.”

“Ugh,” she grunted, pulling her hand away and cricking her neck. “I know guys have a hard time thinking when they come, but _really_...”

“I’m… I’m _sorry_ , okay?” She hated him now. He hadn’t pulled her hair before - usually he clutched her sides or hips or the sheets. Even when his fingers were wound in her hair, he hadn’t pulled before. Why _now_? “Really...”

“Apology accepted… It’s hard to stay mad at that cute face,” she sighed with a quirk of her lips. She didn’t _look_ like she was angry, but… He wasn’t sure. “Time to hop off, though,” she said, patting his right buttock. “I need to clean up.”

Peeves floated off, still feeling uncertain about it all. “Are you mad?” He asked, hitching his trousers back up as she hefted herself up from the couch.

“I’ll have to double check with a therapist, since you keep saying I am,” she joked, rolling her shoulders back and forth to loosen them. “Really, babe - you apologized already, and it was an accident. Shit happens. The only thing that sucks is that my train to Orgasmville derailed when it was only halfway there.” Peeves giggled a little, unable to help himself at the image of a cartoonish pink train being hurled off it’s tracks and exploding. “But really, Peeves, at least grip the couch or something instead next time you need to hang onto something.”

The poltergeist followed her to the bathroom, making a heavy mental note that he was probably capable of cracking her bones if he clung too hard in one area and - even if she had never complained about it elsewhere - to be a lot more aware of where he was touching next time before he gripped anything.

They passed by her calendar (which had some blond guy in a trenchcoat with cheekbones to rival Danny’s posed above the month of January), and Dandrane looked at it, grunted, and sank her shoulders. “Ugh, it’s almost February already…”

Right. February. _Valentine’s Day_ . Peeves felt his chest tighten. He normally would be filled with a spiteful glee at the thought of being able to ruthlessly make fun of the lonely or lovestruck castle-dwellers and dump cold water on those enjoying some good ol’ P.D.A., but he had Danny now. A _girlfriend_. Would he have to get her something? Or would he have to confess to-?

“Babe, please tell me Hogwarts doesn’t take that stupid Hallmark holiday seriously,” Dandrane grumbled as she made to wash her hands. “I don’t think I could live through another Single Awareness Day covered in heart confetti.”

His own heart swelled. “You’ll be lucky,” he replied with a grin. He didn’t have to fuss over it now, thank magic. “Got a boyfriend _and_ a school that detests Valentine’s decor here.”

She shot him a look in the mirror. “Yeah, but it doesn’t stop everyone from being all cutesy and saccharine all over the place.” He had a feeling she was avoiding saying something else, as her little smirk didn’t match up with the rest of her expression.

Peeves hovered there, feeling like he should change the subject, and thought how strange it was that despite it being a Saturday night, she was still wearing a suit. It looked like it’d been pressed (with magic, no doubt), and it was still _relatively_ clean outside of the semen she was wiping off her stomach, despite her wearing it earlier that week, too. Now that he thought of it, he only remembered seeing her in a skirt a handful of times.

“Why _do_ you wear those suits so often?”

“That’s a bit out of left field,” Dandrane answered with a genuinely humored look. She took a little soapy brush to her wand-hand’s nails. “A lot of reasons. For one, it makes me look like I know what I’m talking about all the time. It’s an illusion of professionalism,” she added with a sly smile. “It certainly works as a confidence boost - you just stand up, straighten your tie, pretend you know exactly what you’re talking about, and you’ve sold the world on just how much you know already, because you look like a snappy professional.” She switched to the other hand, but was a bit more sloppy with it. “Point two, it’s also a complete pain the ass to find a suit in the women’s section that fits properly. The fashion industry decided to give the finger to us tall ladies by making everything they put in the ‘career section’ for those at five-ten or less, and tried to force me to buy a purse by taking away the very _concept_ of pockets and giving me an uncomfortable skirt instead of anything practical.”

“But you _have_ a purse,” Peeves said pointedly, thinking back to the dark crocodile-like bag she had stowed in the bottom of the wardrobe.

“Yes, but on a normal day I can easily fit my wand, my keys, _and_ my wallet in my trouser pockets. Thirdly,” the witch added, shaking her wet hands over the sink and grabbing a fluffy towel with the Hogwarts’ golden crest gleaming in the corner, “it confuses the _hell_ out of people.”

She turned to face him with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Men especially. They usually start off thinking you're gay, but they see you in makeup and high heels along with it and they can’t really can’t tell _what_ you are, and you can see them trying to puzzle it out when they look at you interact with other people. It’s absolutely hilarious to see them struggle internally, trying not to just burst out _asking_.” Her eyes glittered, as if she really enjoyed seeing it. “It makes them listen to you more, most of the time. But honestly, even if it didn’t, I’d wear them anyway - the greatest thing is that I make it look damn good.”

Peeves had already felt admiration for the witch growing in his chest, but it all burst out in a small cackle, and he floated there, laughing to himself as she leaned against the sink and draped the towel over her shoulder. “I should’ve _known_ ,” he said in-between little heaves of laughter, “we _are_ alike!”

Dandrane seemed a bit surprised by this, but pleased nonetheless. “You think so?”

“Not-not entirely, mind you,” Peeves interjected as he drew his knees up further to lean his elbows on them so he could sit on nothing. “Already knew you had a mischievous streak, it’s as plain as day - but I never met another person who wore stuff to poke fun at people around them,” he added with a bit of a dreamy tone that he didn’t intend to come through.

“ _That’s_ why you wear your outfit? I always thought you just had interesting taste.”

“Well, a poltergeist running around dressed like a flashy member of the upper class always sets people in a bad mood, dunnit? ‘Specially when I look better in it then they do. They say it’s not my _station_ . Like ‘ve _got_ one of those!” He grinned, remembering the countless disapproving looks people threw at him as they got a better glimpse at his clothing of choice. It was always best when it was an adult, they had such _expectations_ for some reason. “This was the first muggle outfit I’d had in a long time, too, it’s even better with those uppity pureblood types.”

Dandrane made a snort. “Yeah, I can imagine, what with the way people have stared at me here. Some of them do that sort of snooty once-over where they’re like ‘you’ve _got_ to be kidding,’” she mimicked in a rather posh British accent. “Though it seems to happen more with people outside the castle than in. I don’t know if it’s pure-blood mania leftovers or if it’s just your guy’s medieval fashion senses kicking in, honestly,” she said with a wry smirk. “But I’ll add ‘dresses to piss off the upper class and look good’ to the list of reasons I like you.”

Peeves felt unnaturally warm and affectionate right then, and he had half a mind to just tell her there that he might be in love with her after all and that he’d gladly kiss her after egging any passing couple who made her even vaguely uncomfortable on Valentine’s Day, but he decided that maybe that was too much and went the safer route. “You _flatterer_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope all of you who could see the solar eclipse on the 21st did! This includes those of you who could only see it by NASA stream! Thanks to it (and being able to go outside for the partial eclipse) I saw a total of five solar eclipses in one day. What a time to be alive… 
> 
> Wow, we’re finally heading towards February in the story! And you know what THAT means… That’s right, it’s OBVS. AKA “OBligatory Valentine Story”, which should totally be the fanfic tropes’ nickname rather than...whatever it is now. Every year-long fic has this trope, every shipper has a story or two under their belt for it, and yours truly is here to oblige you with one for Peeves/Danny. As much as Danny dislikes it, I’m actually a mixed bag when it comes to Valentine’s. Despite my grievances with it and my general disgust at seeing pink/red/white hearts everywhere, I love having the excuse to indulge in/create fanfics surrounding my favorite ships with an automatically romantic setting, seeing all the funny e-cards people create for their friends/followers/fellow fandom members, and the sales starting the day after always result in some prime half-off chocolate! And a lot of late Scorpio and early Sagittarius babies owe their lives to Valentine’s, so that’s a big plus. It’s better to look on the bright side of it.
> 
> BTW, the book Danny’s reading isn’t based off of anything in particular, but it does allude to what I dislike about some smut I've read. Though the best ending to that particular story’s mistake is that it turns out the reader was reading a fanfic the stalker-character was writing, either in their head or on paper. Easy fix to it being out of nowhere and adds extra characterization, plus the added bonus of including the author’s fantasy! Everybody wins!! ∩(´∀`∩) 
> 
> So does anyone else like to use really specific fonts for stuff in their writing docs? I used to have a pretty cursive font just for the chapter titles, but then I found I could download those fancy Old English fonts for free and now it looks more amazing than I ever thought it could. When I’m writing away from my laptop, I use Google Docs, so I went from from "Pinyon Script" to "Unifraktur Maguntia" to match my Word doc. In there, I also have the a header with the chapter title/fic title alternating, page numbers in the footer, and I made bookmarks for all the chapters, because it makes me feel like I’m writing a book, and thus I take it more seriously. (Though I’ve been taking this story pretty seriously since Chapter 1!) I originally went with pretty cursive to give a Romance Novel feel, but I later felt that the Ye Olde English look captured the essence of Hogwarts’ age and gave it a more Epic feel, especially with the whole mystery of Peeves… Anyone else do this kind of thing? I mean, before I got that fanfic downloader program/used Ao3’s download function, I used to copy-paste my favorite fanfics from other sites and make them look like Real Literature™ in Word - this was especially the case for those that didn’t have a good enough space between paragraphs or had the occasional spelling/grammar error that the author never fixed. No one’s perfect, though, because I keep finding errors in here, too! Google Docs doesn’t catch everything, like the difference between “its” and “it’s”, and last time I literally found it chock FULL of “it’s” when I copied it over! I’m pretty sure I accidentally made Danny’s friends the same height in _Out of Bounds_ , too… I need to go back and comb over everything one day. I don’t do it right now because I’m trying to concentrate on what’s happening in the present! 
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter will be out in late September! Please leave a review or, if your new, kudos! I really appreciate each and every one - it’s the only way I know you guys like what I’m doing! See ya next time~!


	20. Tape #43, Side A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT SPOILER TAGS: PG-13 level violence (both past reference and in-time), blood mention

She wasn’t sure what woke her up. Perhaps it was the light leaking in through the bed-curtains, conveniently right onto her eyes. Perhaps it was the fact that her brain thought she had to be up earlier, like it was just another weekday. Perhaps it was the absence of the half-warmed poltergeist that tended to wrap his arms around her like she was some large teddy bear he was afraid would fall off the bed in the night.

More than likely, though, it was all three wrapped in an unpleasant package, with the added bonus of a pang for a cigarette, despite her not smoking in over a decade.

Dandrane blinked harshly and groaned at the white glare coming in through the gap and rolled onto her back with a very disgruntled huff. The bed felt too big, too cold, and too closed off. She couldn’t remember what time she went to bed, but she didn’t care what time it was, either. The cigarette craving wasn’t a good sign - she only got that when cabin fever came knocking around, and despite a full supply of books and music, her research, and the surplus of both formal and informal company, it still liked to drop by. She blamed the lack of T.V.

Knock, knock, knock.

Oh - a _real_ knock. Who the hell would try to wake her up on what should be the weekend? The thought of an emergency - like fire or an attack of some kind - crossed her mind in a moment of panic. But no, her reasoning told her the knock wasn’t frantic enough, and there was no shouting of “FIRE!” or anything.

 _Meh, let ‘em leave a message._ The witch closed her eyes again, taking a deep breath of the chilly morning air and vaguely wondering if she could get a few more winks in, and if that would help at all.

Knock, knock, knock.

Well, they weren’t exactly _leisurely_ knocks…. _Two knocks? Might be important._

_Knock, knock, knock!_

“Professor Flemming, are you _in_ there?!”

Dandrane’s face twisted into a snarl as she glared at the stone ceiling. _Platts. Fucking Platts._

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming -” she shouted through the curtains, hearing some vague reply, “you ass-munch,” she added in a mutter, rolling out of bed and glancing at the clock. Half-past ten. _Better be real fucking important or the bastard’s getting a broken nose._

She didn’t bother putting on the lounge pants lying on the floor. If Professor Platts had the audacity to wake her up early on a damn Saturday, he could deal with seeing her in a shitty old _Slayer_ t-shirt.

Dandrane pulled open her bedroom door - barely noting that it had been left open last night - and almost walked smack into what looked like a little rectangle of newspaper dangling where her nose would’ve been a second too late. Upon closer inspection, it was strung up by fishing line, with the words “For your ears only!” written in bright red.

Peeves’ handwriting. Even if it wasn’t obvious, she didn’t know anyone else who wrote like that:  scrawling, but still somewhat elegant, like a combination of rushed cursive and that ‘ye old English’ style that appeared on ancient books. He _had_ told her before that he tended to copy the Founders’ handwriting, but he never said which one...

She thought about pulling it down, but figured it would do her no good to be seen holding a present from Peeves first thing in the morning, and just ducked her head around it to look and see if he had a bucket of water or something over the door. Despite the fact that she was dating him, Peeves didn’t let her become _entirely_ immune from his little pranks. She just got off easier than anyone else; the most he’d done was surprise her with water-balloons in the bathroom and hide her files or switch up things in her desk. (Though she’d been rather pissed when he hid her fourth-year’s midterms; it took a frantic search of her room and multiple summons to find the folder was inside the dragon skeleton’s jaw.)

After seeing no pranking tool hovering above her head, she dodged around the strung-up present and unlocked the heavy office door, pulling it open so hard it was a bit like a swinging door in a saloon. “ _Yes_?”

Professor Platts stood there, arms crossed, his attention elsewhere in the hall for only a moment before realizing she’d finally answered the door. He seemed to take her appearance in very quickly, and gave her a disbelieving frown to accompany the uncomfortable blush. “By Merlin, do you know what _time_ it is?” _Time for you to piss off?_ “You’re supposed to be downstairs in fifteen minutes and you’re not even _dressed_?!”

Dandrane blinked, finding herself unusually confused as well as annoyed by his accusatory tone. “What? Why?”

“You’re the _chaperone_ , Flemming!”

Chaperone? For _what_? It was the fucking _weekend_ , what could there _possibly…_

 _Shit. It’s Valentine’s Day._ That meant the Hogsmeade trip was that day, too. A teacher was always in charge of leading the kids down to the village and leading them back by a certain time, and making sure no one got into fights or mischief on the way, since prefects could only do so much for such large groups. “Right, sorry, must’ve missed the memo for that...”

“Memo? What are you talking about, you were _at_ the last teacher’s meeting, you _agreed-_ ”

Ah, of _course_ ; she hadn’t been paying attention in _there_ after a while. Her mind had wandered into several different corners, as well as the gutter - more than likely, her voluntary chaperoning was sprung on her and she hastily agreed so no one would suspect she was daydreaming of Peeves and her getting hot and heavy in her car after a drive around northern California. “Dude, I’m barely awake here, just...take a chill pill or something,” she interjected, not caring what he decided to rant at her about.

At least it was funny to see the Transfiguration professor pull a confused and slightly disturbed face at that. Peeves would’ve loved it. “A-a _what_?”

Dandrane hated explaining stuff like that to anyone over twenty who annoyed her, so she just talked over him. “Look, I’ll be down there in a few minutes. Just go wherever the hell you normally spend your time and - I dunno, grade something, pop a Xanax, take a nap, or whatever. _Cheerio_ ,” she said in her best imitation of a British accent before shutting the door in the man’s face. She didn’t give a shit if he complained to someone later; she was tired and annoyed, and that was honestly the best excuse possible for any _potential_ trouble she’d be in later.

She turned back to her bedroom doorway, where Peeves’ gift was dangling away, twisting in the air now and then. She had a duty to the kids first - but she _did_ have fifteen minutes. She could at least open it.

Careful not to tear the newspaper (she wanted to keep the message at least), she pulled off the loop of fishing wire and peeled open the taped flap.

In the more panicky part of her mind, she had the horrible idea that he might have recorded over one of her old tapes, but when the paper peeled away cleanly, the plastic case was unscratched and the label was completely flat, unlike the rest:

> #43:  
> 
> Special Int. w/ Peeves

She stood there gawking at it for a minute, excitement making her body tingle everywhere. He recorded something for her... Was it a story? Was he going to spill new details on her research? Was it some kind of joke? Was it just a blank tape? Was it something incredibly inappropriate and explicit?

She knew her face must’ve been rather pink by then. She _did_ say she wanted to capture his voice on tape when they were fooling around… Had he fulfilled that desire _for_ her?

Sense pummeled its way into her train of thought. She had kids to take care of for a while, and that meant she had to look at least somewhat presentable. She couldn’t afford to listen to anything erotic…

 _But it might not be that_ , she thought to herself. _Let’s just play the first minute and see what it is._ _If I have to go downstairs with wet panties, it would be better than thinking about what it_ ** _could_** _be all day_.

Dandrane rustled through her bedside drawer until she found her tape recorder - it was right where she had left it last, lying on top of a small notepad between the box of condoms she had brought in during the break and a bunch of miscellaneous writing tools. She could’ve sworn she had a book in there, too, but it didn’t really matter right then.

She popped in the tape (did she leave a tape in there before and he took it out? She could remember) and pressed play, deciding to hunt for her headphones in the trunk that still held half her clothes. Today called for something comfortable and casual, but also professional somehow…

> “ _Hello, Danny.”_

Two words in, and the witch found herself paying absolute attention. God, he had that playful tone that made her feel like he was taunting her and flirting with her at the same time.

She fucking _loved_ that on him.

> _“I know I’m supposed to say my name and follow it with the time, but you said once that no one else but you listens to these tapes… In case you were wondering, though, it’s after four in the morning - I would’ve liked to do this earlier, but a certain cheeky girl was still bloody **awake**._
> 
> _“ **Still** , here I am, sitting at your desk - downstairs, mind you, because I figured I might just wake you back up if I sat at your office talking to myself. Aren’t I considerate?”_

_Well you still took my recorder without permission,_ Dandrane joked to herself, _but gee, thanks, babe._

> _“Now, you might be thinking to yourself ‘but you borrowed my tape machine without asking!’ And you’d be **right** , but it doesn’t count if I’m doing this as a **surprise**.”_

Danny chuckled to herself as she began to sort through her trunk, looking for a sweater to go with whatever pair of jeans she had lying around that were still clean. A sweater-over-shirt combination sounded good.

> _“So what **is** the surprise? Well, I realized a couple weeks ago that I have a lot of good stories about Hogwarts under my hat - and you don’t know about **any** of ‘em! Now, I’ve been told before not to talk about certain things -”_

Ah, no doubt the Ghost Council told him not to tell her much of anything for security reasons.

> _“But I don’t see why some are kept all hush-hush. After all, what’s so wrong in telling you the story of how I got my precious belled hat?”_

Dandrane paused, her hand hovering over a plain black sweater.

> _“Betrayal! Anarchy! Fear! It’s got it all! It’d be a crime not to tell it!_
> 
> _“But I’m getting ahead of myself. Can’t have that. You see, it all started a long time ago – ”_

There was a rustle and a small jingle, as if he swept his hat off his head; only two or three bells still had functioning tongues.

> _“1876, looks like! That’s what, almost a hundred-and-forty years? So, not very long for me, but your great-grandparents might not have graduated from nappies!_
> 
> _“So picture this - yours truly, un-hatted but still devilishly handsome, floating around the castle and minding his own business. It’s the middle of the day, and wouldn’t you know it, I was just thinking to myself that I hadn’t seen a certain cantankerous caretaker for a while. No, not Filch, our own filthy cleaning chap - this guy goes by Rancorous Carpe. Apt name, I think - he was pretty rank and about as **smart** as a carp. But if you thought Filch dislikes me, he’s the last in the long line of predecessors, and Carpe was the most vocal when it came to actually flat-out hating me!_
> 
> _“I’ve had a lot of attempts on my - uh, **life** \- but this guy’s done the most. Hexes, curses, sharp pointy things, you name it, he’s tried it!”_

As much as she seriously liked Peeves, she was not surprised that people wanted to get rid of him permanently, let alone a person who’s sole duty in the castle was to keep the place clean. Peeves liked to break, misplace, and tamper with things he shouldn’t have, and Dandrane knew from personal experience that if you knocked over the wrong thing ‘on accident’, people were inclined to bear grudges, and depending on the importance of the ruined or broken thing, they could get violent. The difference between them was that where Dandrane had the forethought to be sneaky about it and only do that to people she really didn’t like, Peeves went out of his way to let everyone know it was him who ruined their stuff.

But just because she understood Carpe’s grudge – or anyone else’s, really – it didn’t mean she agreed with his methods in the least.

> _“But he realized sometime in his later years that he had to think outside of his little fishy mind-box if he had any hope of getting rid of me. And when I floated into a certain hallway, I could tell he’d been **busy**. _
> 
> _“You know that look you get when you figure out an answer to something that’s been puzzling you for ages? I’m sure that’s happened in front of the mirror at least once, right? You know what I’m talking about. **THAT** face. Other people would pull that expression if they won the lottery or just found a galleon on the ground.” _

She couldn’t help but smile at his affectionate teasing remark as she shed her t-shirt and started to put on her bra.

> _“ **I** had that face. I really couldn’t help it. It’s not every day I see a pile of weapons just sitting around unguarded in the middle of a hallway.” _

Well, that was a twist. She was guessing something more along the lines of seeing a bear-trap or a cannon pointed his way.

> _“I’m talking cutlasses and crossbows by the armful, coupled with a brand-new blunderbuss - I don’t really know what you yanks would call those things, I suppose it’s like one of those rifles? I heard muggles use them to hunt, but I’ve never seen it - anyway, the piece de resistance was a little **cannon**! You don’t know **how** excited I got to see that - I hadn’t seen a loaded cannon at the castle in years!” _

Dandrane buttoned her blouse, wondering for a moment if the cannon was set to go off like an elaborate timer-trap. Then again, it was the mid-late eighteen-hundreds, and wizards weren’t known for their ingenuity with muggle contraptions…

> _“Of course, it didn’t take me more than five seconds to put together that this beautiful miracle was a trap. No one but me touches things in the armory that aren’t pinned to the ground with one of those nasty permanent charms - and that’s normally because kiddies can’t get to them anyway, since all the pointy things are behind glass and a couple of no-touchy wards that most kids can’t figure out the counter-charms to. Even without that, a pile of deadly goodies just lying about where **anyone** can get them is obviously suspicious - but on top of that, there was that feeling you get around objects that are heavily doused with magic. You know what I mean?” _

Danny knew. Sort of. Heavy amounts of wards in one area gave off a kind of pressurized feeling, and she was naturally familiar with those. Unless he was talking about something less permanent, like those spots of magical signatures in alleys or buildings where the aftermaths of people’s wand-fights were left clinging to whatever it had hit for a few hours. She still remembered the feeling she had when she and her superior visited the scene of a Voldemort-sympathizer’s battle with a used car dealer who happened to be working late - it was the first time she’d really known what the older Auror was talking about when he mentioned hot spots. There were thick threads of deadly magic sitting on wrecked cars and streetlamps and the walls of the little dealership, as well as the few scattered shell casings from the dealer’s shotgun that still laid resting in the poor man’s hand. It was an unnatural feeling that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle and her self-preservation instincts go on high alert.

She hoped that was what Peeves’ alluded to. Otherwise she’d be rather in the dark.

> _“Sure you do. Before you fixed it, that supply closet gave you a headache; ‘s the closest way I can explain it, except I don’t get that side-effect._
> 
> _“Anyway, I **know** it’s probably a trap, but quite frankly I didn’t care. You don’t stumble upon someone’s weapon horde every day. I needed to at least take **one**. So I picked up the nicest crossbow, and wouldn’t you know it, just as soon as I got it in my arms this giant bell jar slams over the whole area, and there’s one of those annoying little bell alarms going off. I hate those - sensitive ears, you know.”_

_You tease_ , she thought. She loved nibbling or kissing his ear-tips – he always blushed and made fun noises.

> _“There’s no other way it’s not Carpe. Magic can feel different on the person, but in a castle like this it’s hard to pinpoint exact differences - but I **know** its Carpe, even if his little signature does blend in with the rest. No one else would try to catch me in a bloody **jar**. And this thing - this stupid, **pathetic** attempt on my life - is coated in charms designed to prevent things from escaping or breaking it, or even so much as breathing in it. If anybody else had got underneath it, they’d be dead before you could finish singing the school song._
> 
> _“If I were a lesser poltergeist, I might have succumbed to all those containment charms and I wouldn’t be sitting here, talking to you on this tape. ’D be a fixture in a museum, maybe. But I’m not that, am I?”_

He giggled, and it didn’t echo, but it had that feeling in her skull. She knew he was grinning, but whether it was triumphant or maniacal, she wasn’t completely sure. Maybe it was a mix of both...

> _“Y’see, Carpe made a lot of mistakes, but underestimating me is the worst he’s ever done. I wasn’t quite a thousand yet, but let me tell you - you don’t hang around for nine-hundred years in a castle teeming with people just throwing around magic all willy-nilly without picking up some serious stuff. It all mixes together in here, but I don’t know how it works - I’ll leave that detail to **you** , my special detective – ”_

Dandrane felt her heart skip a second at the affection that laced through his voice; like he was talking to her from the pillow next to hers, not through a tape recorded several hours ago in her classroom, floating in the air by her head.

> _“but it felt like everything I had was wanting to come out at once! I know I’m laughing about it right now, but at the time, I was more pissed than I’d ever been in my existence. Don’t like being put in a **cage**. ‘Specially not one I can’t move around proper in._
> 
> _“So I broke it! Really don’t know how… I remember feeling everything...tearing? It was…weird…”_

She flicked her finger to pause the machine for a moment, before he could get further. She wasn’t sure what to make of “everything tearing”. If he were a non-corporeal being, she’d figure his entire body started to warp and stretch, but he _wasn’t_ _._ Though he could pass through walls… Was it possible his form changed into some kind of in-between state? She knew he had to actively make himself go through objects, but he said himself that it was practically a second nature to him. Maybe, if was that upset, what was second nature took over for bit, like a person pumped full of adrenaline becoming temporarily stronger...

She pressed play.

> _“I know I flew to the top and tried to punch and kick the glass at the same time, and it started to crack, and then a few hits in and **boom**! The whole thing shattered! And there I am, temper and all, floating in the air as glass literally rains down on me, and I get the feeling I’m being watched, so I turn, and wouldn’t you know it, Carpe is standing there with his mouth hanging open like the fish he is.”_

Well, adrenaline rush of magic it was, then.

> _“And let me tell you, Danny, this was one of the most satisfying moments in whatever you would call my life! This asshole is white as a sheet and panicking like he’s being arrested for a crime he didn’t commit, saying that it was impossible about a hundred times. And me, I’m still mad, but I’m riding that train of complete satisfaction and fresh magic from my favorite target, so I picked up a crossbow - a loaded one, by the way, I guess he thought that was more of a lure - and fired it just so it would go stick in the wall next to his head, looked right at him, and said: **I’m not going to miss twice.**_
> 
> _“Ha ha ha haa! You should’ve been there!  He ran so fast you could’ve sworn he was flying! And I get the idea that hey, a chase sounds fun, but he needs a serious lesson. So I grab a few cutlasses and stick them in my belt - yes, I had a belt at the time, **and** a completely different outfit - as well as the blunderbuss and as many arrows as I can carry, and figure I’d come back for that cannon later. _
> 
> _“So I manage to find him a couple floors down, trying to find help, probably, and I start just randomly firing arrows around him. I might have said something like “there’s no getting away from me”, but I’m not sure; doesn’t really matter, because he tried to pull out his wand and - would you believe I actually managed to hit it out of his hand? Like, not by actually shooting his hand, I managed to shoot **at** his wand. I saw the unicorn hair and everything!”_

If true, then Peeves had some serious shooting skills. Dandrane could hit right on target a good ninety-percent of the time, which was better than some of the other trainees could; she figured it came from being shown how to shoot from an early age, since both her mother and maternal grandfather were crack shots that insisted the skill be passed down. That, and her Auror training, which forced her to aim properly with both her wand and a standard 9mm Glock, else she be stuck at a desk job forever. But in comparison, Peeves, with his thousand years of practice, was probably much better than she could ever aspire to. That, or he was damn lucky.  

> _“And then, a couple of students come out of a classroom - looking back, I’m pretty sure they were trying to bang in there - and I fire one at them, too.”_

_YOU WHAT?!_

> _“Now I know what you’re probably thinking. You’re probably getting mad at me – ”_

_DAMN FUCKING RIGHT -!_

> _“but I swear, Danny, not only did I only hit a foot away from that kid’s shoulder, but I was very careful about aiming. I’m not about to kill **him**. Carpe, maybe, because he’s an asshole and I was mad enough to not feel bad if I really did hit him, but never a kid.”_

The witch paused the tape, fixing to find and tie her boots as she thought. She got very lured in by his story up until that point…

She didn’t really know what to think. Part of her was furious that he even thought of aiming in a child’s direction. Another part - the logical one that usually helped her puzzle things out - knew that from everything she knew about how Peeves’ worked, he was telling the truth. Not because he sounded sincere, or because he told her the whole story despite having the chance to omit such unsettling details, but the fact that if Peeves took magic as energy to continue existing, obliterating the source would be the last thing he would want to do. She’d thought about it before, back in his room, and she thought about it again now as she retrieved her boots from the corner she had tossed them in yesterday.

Peeves wouldn’t want to kill a person. Coming too close to that due to potential complications was also off the list, as the poltergeist _she_ knew wasn’t an idiot. At roughly eight-hundred-seventy years old, Peeves had known full well what he was doing; he was instigating a panic.

Dandrane laced her boots with almost mechanical precision, and upon deciding she didn’t care about wearing make-up that day, set about going to fix her hair in the bathroom mirror instead. Her reflection stared back at her in the dim lamp-light, dark bags under her eyes despite how alert she felt. She swept cold water over her face and brushed some of it into her scalp, hoping it would take away some of the oil that had built up overnight, and she wondered if her brain wasn’t just covering for Peeves because she liked him.

Maybe she was running away from the possibility that Peeves was more violent than she thought. Seeing people fall down and get minor injuries was funny - seeing innocent people get seriously hurt or killed wasn’t.

She squeezed a healthy amount of hair gel onto her fingers and started molding the middle pieces of her hair into spikes. What if her theory about Peeves was actually wrong, and he didn’t absorb magic at all? What if he was some kind of demon or otherworldly being that thrived off chaos and was hell-bent on creating it at every opportunity?

 _Don’t be stupid,_ she told herself, _people thought he was just some powerful ghost for years. He’s a poltergeist, and every poltergeist record on the books say they only appear in houses with kids or large amounts to people. They throw shit, they break shit, and at least one person from every case we’ve read says they were nearly killed at one point. It’s how they fucking work. You know you’re right - he eats magic like you eat food. He just has to work differently to get it._

But wasn’t that an excuse, too?

 _For fuck’s sake_ , she thought, scowling at her reflection and moving to rinse the rest of the unused gel from her hands. _You’re dating the fucking guy, you wake up to him almost every damn day! Peeves pisses people off, absorbs their magical discharge, and perpetuates the cycle on fucking repeat! A ‘maybe I’d kill this one guy for trying to kill me’ isn’t ‘I don’t care if people live or die.’_

She stood straight, looking over her mirror-image to see that she looked alright.

She felt the thought coming before words really expressed it: _Besides, it’s not like you’re a saint, either. If he misfired like you -_

She didn’t want to follow that trail of thought. Not today. Not ever, really, but sometimes she couldn’t help it, when she felt her lowest...or very drunkest. But absolutely not today. She turned and left her mirror image behind, seeking the refuge of anything else at all. Her eyes fell on her nightstand, where the still photo of Peeves in front of the Shrieking Shack sat in a wooden frame borrowed from her parent’s house, and she felt suddenly like she didn’t want to look at that today. She swept out, zooming her wand into her hand, and thought of Sabrina. The vulture was likely nested in the Owlery, all cozy and happily munching on her daily dose of raw meat scraps sent up from the kitchen. Dandrane hadn’t seen her as much lately, and she didn’t know if it was because her little sweetheart was enjoying flying over such big expanses of forest or if she was just enjoying being nestled with a hundred owls to keep her warm all the time.

The witch felt the pang of loneliness, wishing she had time to go see the bird and stroke her feathers for a while and play fetch. There was no point in riding that disappointing train of thought, so she thought of her godfather instead, with his cute understanding little face, never showing signs of age or anything but expressions only cats could do. Frey’s motor-like purrs were practically ingrained in her mind, and though the urge to pet something sat in her hands, she at least felt a little better.   

She knew she had to go downstairs, knew she had very little time to do anything else, but as she tugged her coat over her shoulders, she found herself looking back into her bedroom, where her tape recorder eerily floated in the air where she had left it. She wanted to listen to the rest of it, no matter what. She scrambled through her desk drawers until her over-the-ear headphones were shoved into her coat pocket, summoned her tape player back over to her so it could be shoved in the opposing pocket with her gloves, shouldered her purse, and threw open her office door before realizing it looked too bright.

A snap of her fingers brought her sunglasses flying over to her, and the second they were on, the world turned a little grayer and she felt more like her usual self. _Showtime_.

Dandrane half-expected to see Peeves on her way down, popping out from some corner or slipping next to her like it was no big deal, but before she knew it she was overlooking a crowd of students gathered by the front door. The prefects started to command quiet, and Dandrane thought to herself how funny it was to be overseeing such a big group. It would be like trying to take a pack of dogs for a walk without their leashes, no doubt.

“Alright, kiddos - take out your permission forms and hold them up in the air so I can see them.” There were somewhat perplexed looks from the crowd as kids of all ages started to pull out the parchment, some keeping it eye-level and others thrusting their hands into the air as high as they could. “Those of you without forms should go back to your room before you bother trying to pull a fast one,” she said, looking at the number of forms raised high and counting heads. Surprisingly no one was there that shouldn’t have been.

One of the Gryffindor prefects raised their hand, but spoke aloud anyway:  “Professor, shouldn’t we actually _check_ -”

“Don’t need to. I can tell you’re all legit - so let’s fling open those doors and run out before I collapse from caffeine-withdrawal,” she joked with a grin. Some of the older students laughed, and others rolled their eyes, but she didn’t care. _I wish they had a Starbucks or something down there. They’re the only ones that make those yummy lattes with the extra foam and special syrup… There’s also that tea place I haven’t been to, I guess, but I figured they’d use the same kind of super-dark tea that Sybill has. And Horace. And the entire breakfast table. Why IS the tea so damn black here? I mean, coffee **can** be -_

Her thoughts were interrupted as they filtered out onto the cold slushy lawn, some kids actually racing down the drive towards the gate. Being forced to walk down at their pace was alright in this case, since she would have time to listen to more of the tape Peeves gave her and pause it at whatever interval she felt like. She started lingering at the back of the drifting group, snapping her headphone jack into the tape player, looking up occasionally to make sure no one was causing any kind of particular mischief.

The freezing air seemed to clear her head more. Or maybe it was because she was suddenly outside the castle and going to go run around elsewhere for a while. The more she thought about it, Peeves did seem to be genuinely upset whenever _she_ was hurt. He actually apologized for pulling her hair and immediately stopped what he was doing when he realized she was upset… And long ago, when she had told him the story of the Wolfe Manor, he actually seemed concerned when she got a nosebleed out of nowhere… _They might have been flukes, I guess. He wants to continue sleeping with me and he might have been more surprised or confused by my nosebleed. I guess I won’t really know unless I get a serious injury…_

She felt conflicted, doubting his sincerity like that when he’d been rather honest about everything so far. He liked to keep specific details quiet to get her to work things out for herself - his favorite form of simultaneously annoying and interesting her, she guessed - but when he _did_ tell her things, he didn’t _lie_ about them. He had no reason to...until now, maybe.

Dandrane knew she wasn’t going to get anywhere just by constantly thinking about whether Peeves was lying or not. She had to listen to the full story first. _Then_ she could pick it apart. She pressed play, keeping her eyes on the crowd of children in front of her, and listened on.

> _“Anyway, the kids scream, Carpe screams, and for once he decides to be decent and tries to block them from anything else and says that my beef is with him - not in those words, exactly - and I kinda remember saying something about all this being his fault before I took off for a completely different area._
> 
> _“Y’see, not only was this **fun** , but I had the idea that tormenting Carpe didn’t just mean chasing him down with a weapon or two. I could make him think that I was hunting students, and all the blame would be squarely on his shoulders, because he’s the one who left weapons out for me like that in the first place. And Danny, I’ve had so many attempts to silence me over the centuries that I figured this would teach **everyone** a lesson. Our Heads didn’t think much of attempted cursing or wounding or anything when it was aimed at me. Thought I deserved it, ‘s my guess. But it wasn’t going to be like that **anymore**.”_

She paused the tape. So it _wasn’t_ just revenge against Carpe. It was an eight-hundred-year-old balloon of frustration popping. Dandrane knew very well what grudges could do – and while Peeves seemed to generally channel his anger into his natural tendencies to cause disruption, it was obvious that this was too deep of a personal matter to completely dissipate through his normal means.

Though, if it were her, she couldn’t say she wouldn’t do something similar. Constant attempts at violent assault would trigger a reaction, after all…

_Maybe we’re more alike than I thought._

Even though they only were several yards passed the gates, the village was spread before them, welcoming and slightly more colorful than the outside of Hogwarts Castle. The witch was reminded once more of the oddly picturesque look the little town had. She eyed the group of fifth years who were pushing each other and decided they were just joking around. Seemed the kids were doing alright by themselves…

Actually, they seemed to be doing perfectly _fine_. Whether it was because they knew she was watching their backs, or if they were just naturally in very good moods, there wasn’t a single struggle or note of anything nasty brewing in the air. Not on the whole walk down. Sure, things could change when they got _into_ the village, but the rules never said anything about her not wandering, and quite honestly she trusted that they could handle themselves fairly well. She had already counted heads and kept a mental tally of everyone who had come down - there were only two students she didn’t personally teach in the whole group.

They’d be fine wandering on their own. And if they weren’t, she’d tear the place apart until she found them and kick the shit out of whoever decided to mess with them.

When they finally did reach the border of the village, Dandrane tugged her headphones over her neck. “Hey, I want all of you to be back here by four, ok?” She called over the crowd. “Even if you have to come back down from the castle - I want to make sure you’re all accounted for.”

There was some very mild grumbling, but even a begrudging “yes” was still a “yes”.

“Alright, you scamps, go on and have fun.”

The group took off in all directions, and Dandrane wondered what to do with herself for a moment.

_Coffee. Definitely want coffee._

The village wasn’t too big, but it was big enough for her to have to use landmarks to navigate her way around. She wondered why the place didn’t have a village map on both ends; there was only one, as far as she knew, and it was dead-center in the village square.

Dandrane passed The Three Broomsticks, making her way further down the cobblestone road and turning to where she was fairly sure she saw the café before. It was across the road from a tailors, and a little down past that should’ve been the village bookstore… Weirdly enough, the businesses looked more like duplexes had crossed over with cottages. They were _tall_ enough to be duplexes, and some were nestled rather close together if not literally made together, but they generally had the roofing and brickwork that seemed to define the standard English country cottage. She supposed it was more likely that someone had taken the original cottages that lined the place and stretched them up.

Madam Puddifoot's - which she couldn’t help but quirk a grin at, feeling it was an apt name for a particularly well-groomed Persian cat - was only a little detached from its neighboring store, and only two stories high in comparison to some of the other building’s three, but it looked like it fit the village rather well. More importantly, it seemed the type of place that would make a decent cappuccino, given its warm glow and cute chalkboard sign.

She almost could forgive the awful Valentine’s decor. From the outside it looked like pink and white streamers had been tacked on walls and maybe some cuter drinkware had been placed out. It didn’t look so bad, she thought, even if it made her think of those awful sickly-sweet greeting cards.

But oh, was she ever wrong.

She only had to open the door when her instincts made her want to run and slam it shut behind her. Golden cherubs that looked like those weird paintings of baby-angels flew over her head and giggled in a way she could only describe as grotesquely cute. Not the “oh, look at that little puppy” cute, not the “oh God it’s so adorable I feel my heart wrench” cute, but the “doe-eyed figurines with relatable sayings your grandmother insisted on collecting” cute. The kind of ugly blend of what people could _find_ cute mashed together with a terribly cheap marketing-towards-kids gimmick. Even her friend Jillian, who collected cute porcelain dolls and adored frilly dresses, would have felt highly offended by the sight of the place. But God damn it, Dandrane was thirsty and she needed caffeine to help her think properly.

“Be with you in a moment, dear,” said a plump woman with rosy cheeks, high-set bun of curls, and a hurried but genuinely friendly smile as she passed by with a full tea tray. Dandrane chose to stand closest to the front counter, where a barely-twenty-year-old waitress was hurrying to tie her apron before flashing a customer-service smile.

“Good morning, what can we get for you, mum?”

She still wasn’t used to hearing ‘mum’ in place of ‘ma’am’ or ‘Miss’, so it took a second to fully process. “Do you do coffee to go?”

“Well, it’s one size only, but yeah,” she said, leaning in a little and lowering her voice, “I’ve been trying to get her-” she muttered with a glance over at the woman who passed Dandrane over - “to give bigger options, but she’s a stubborn one.”

Dandrane made sure to keep her voice low, too. Not like she needed to shout or anything; the place was full of quiet chatter and the tinkling of spoons on china, but you could mutter and whisper if you were close enough. “Honestly, as long as it’s hot and medium-roast, I don’t care what size it is, but I’ll pay double if you put an extension on the cup and fill it to the top.”

The waitress’ eyebrows rose, but she looked pleased. “Gotcha. Two sugars and cream fine? It’ll be a minute, I’m afraid - we’re a little, er, _busy_.”

 _Understaffed is more like it_ , Dandrane thought, glancing at the fairly packed room, but she shrugged with what she hoped was an understanding smile and not a strained one. “I’ll wait.”  

It was only after eleven, but the place was already rather crowded, and somehow some of the students had already beaten her to the punch and gotten seats. Adults and teenagers alike sat at small tables with tea and scones and what looked like little trays of tea sandwiches. A lot were couples in the midst of some quiet chatter, but there were some small groups of three or four jammed next to each other. Only one group seemed grouchy, and she guessed those were the regulars not liking the interruption to their normal schedule by ways of the holiday. There was already one adult couple in a corner who were giving each other some serious eye-fucking glances and coy little grins. Dandrane was a little surprised they weren’t just making out at the table, the way they looked at each other.   

On any other day Dandrane might find the pastime of people-watching interesting, but the amount of couples getting bits of red confetti sprinkled on them with glittery hearts hanging over their heads and the curls of steam from their cups morphing into even _more_ hearts took the fun right out of it. The Valentine’s decorations reminded her too much of her various disastrous dates; particularly the ones where her boyfriends insisted on going out somewhere to celebrate and picked the most crowded places to eat, and always by the end of the night Dandrane wanted nothing more than to sit alone with some mindless television or do a re-watch of _My Bloody Valentine,_ courtesy of Lonny’s pirated tapes. The guys almost always said the wrong thing, or something nasty always happened with food, and in one case, Dandrane still remembered one guy’s thought-to-be-ex-girlfriend showing up.

But really, the worst thing was that they all felt forced to say something romantic - be it “I love you” or “let’s move in together” or something almost poetic, it never sounded right. In hindsight, they were either pleading for sex or just using the romantic atmosphere of the holiday as an excuse to try and force her into a decision of some kind, with only two exceptions in her line of non-single Valentines (and those two were _long_ out of the picture).

The whole shebang was a _ruse_ to her, both on a corporate level and a social one, and she hated it.

A cherub giggled and sprinkled some confetti on her head. She glared at the hideous mockery of life from behind her glasses, imagining one of Peeves’ crossbow arrows plunging right through its ribs so it would be helplessly pinned to the ceiling. It didn’t seem to sense her utter distaste, as it squirmed its little legs and fluttered away like she wasn’t killing it in her imagination. She felt an unpleasant roil of hatred in her stomach as she clenched her fists - unlike the castle mistletoe, those cherubs probably weren’t flammable, and quite honestly she knew that they didn’t deserve that kind of treatment, even if they were only highly-enchanted bits of cardboard in disguise.

The witch tried her best to think of something else as she waited. All she could think of was tearing apart the heart banners with her hands. If Peeves were there, no doubt he’d enjoy making a mess of everything in sight, and the idea that he would trap all the flying cherubs into a net and dangle it over a large pan of boiling water was something she found almost cathartic. Dandrane sincerely wished just then she could’ve brought him along, holiday be damned. The tape _might_ have counted as a Valentine, but at least it was unconventional, and she wasn’t sure if he would ask for anything in return anyway. There were times she didn’t know what _exactly_ was going on in his head...

“Mum, coffee’s ready.”

Dandrane pointedly eyed the plate of tiny sandwiches on the table closest to the counter. “Can I get some of those, too?”

“Well, we normally only put them on plates...”

“You could literally just throw them in a paper bag and I’d be happy,” Dandrane said with a slightly curled lip.

The waitress eyed the manager, who was going past again with her wand raised, hovering a bunch of teapots and cups so well they could have been sitting on a cart. The giggling of the cherubs as they flew around the ceiling was growing more obnoxious by the moment, not helped by the hunger and thirst now gnawing at Dandrane’s stomach. “I suppose I could. Cost you the price for half-tea, though.”

“That’s fine,” Dandrane replied, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. She dug her fingernails into her palms, grateful that the poor woman couldn’t see her hands through her pockets. She wanted out of the heart-filled box of sugary romantic clichés. It was hard to think of anything calming in a place overly stuffed with celebration for a holiday she despised. “I’d _really_ appreciate it.”

She knew she sounded like she was gritting her teeth then, but the waitress just ducked back to the kitchen like she hadn’t heard her. The witch envisioned the eye-fucking couple at the corner table getting tea dumped on them, and could practically hear Peeves’ cackle in her head when the waitress returned with a small brown bag that was quietly stuffed into the closest pocket. Dandrane made sure to add a few coins into the tip jar for the waitress’ trouble before she left the little slice of her own hell, taking large gulps of coffee even as it mildly seared her mouth. Cold air and hot tasty coffee brought her some relief and sense of self, and right then she wanted nothing more than to be alone and finish the tape somewhere that wasn’t bursting with heart-motifs.

Hogsmeade’s library was alright, she supposed, but it was a little too spacious. They had everything labeled, everything put away in its proper place, and it was so quiet in there, even with people in it, you would swear a silencing charm had been put on the little building. The sections even had age-lines for certain shelves, or provisional-lines in case you were with a guardian. Everything was _just so_. On the one hand, this was a nice change of pace from the Hogwarts library, which Peeves and the students were constantly disorganizing, but on the other it just wasn’t the place to be, even if it did have a decent filing system.

Now the _bookstore_ \- there was a place she could sit in for hours at a time.

The village bookstore had a magic all its own, having two levels completely dedicated to piles and piles of books. _Literally_ piles - books were shoved in every corner and crevice the owner could manage, from the staircase to the shelf-less corners to the windowsills. Dandrane suspected that some of the used books were never inventoried, being in such out-of-the-way places or not even bearing cheap price stickers. There were also clocks everywhere, and not all of them told time - some told the phases of the moon, others the day of the month, and others counted towards the times for equinoxes or solstices or both. The owner was a little obsessed with them, keeping their prized Grandfather Clock firmly nailed to the floor near the checkout counter and placing the rest on bookshelves and walls. Surprisingly, the two cats that wandered around the place never seemed to want to knock the smaller clocks over. At least as far as she knew.

Despite the crowding of books, the place wasn’t too busy when Dandrane waltzed on in, and one staircase climb and squeezing through shelves later, she found herself sitting on her folded jacket with her back against another shelf in the most secluded area of the shop, her coffee and sandwich bag on the floor beside her. Some of the clocks would undoubtedly go off during her stay there, and no doubt one of the cats would pester her for a good pet before going about their mice-hunting duty, but that was part of the place’s charm - it was organized chaos. It was just too bad there wasn’t a fireplace or radiator to sit near for maximum coziness.

The witch put her headphones back over her ears and sipped her coffee, letting the comfort of it and her surroundings wrap itself around her like a soft blanket before she pressed play again.

> _“So I spent the next few hours randomly appearing at different parts of the castle, brandishing a weapon of some kind. It’s real easy to chase people with swords while you’re screeching your head off, so the cutlasses were the weapon of choice. Some of the braver ones tried to stop me, but I just dodged out of the way and escaped, only to come back and surprise them later. Lot of fun, those chases…_
> 
> _“So naturally, teachers got wind of this pretty fast, and one of them - I think it was the Charms teacher at the time, Nimue Jernigan - confronted me. So I told her to try and stop me, tossed a smoke bomb her way - they used to be **really** popular, I had a whole pile stocked up - before shooting the window with the blunderbuss and zooming away so I could make it look like I escaped, and I went to fetch the cannon. I’d hidden it away fully loaded, thanks to the then-potion-master’s love of gunpowder as an ingredient and the cannonball **already** stuck inside – I really don’t know what Carpe was thinking, leaving it like that – and waited until it was almost time for dinner to be over. Everyone’s scared, teachers are leading the way to guide kids back to wherever they were going to go, and the whole place is just asking for a **spectacle**. So I plopped the thing onto the stairs, looked out into the startled crowd, and said “I don’t think that door’s big enough to fit you all through! Let’s widen it a bit!” I’ll never forget the looks on their faces when I struck the match. ‘Specially Carpe’s. He’d just come out of the dungeons, and just…just that look of perfect horror. Pretty sure the lesson I was trying to teach him sunk in right then.    _
> 
> _“It was **great**! Everybody scrambling, rushing to get kids outside through any exit but the front door, with only the Headmistress trying to get the cannon away from me. Headmistress Eupraxia Mole was no fool, you know - she managed to get the fuse damp and hoisted the thing in the air, but I went with it and kept a good grip on it, eventually just pointing it at her. She actually asked me why I was doing all this - the only living person to do that, surprise, surprise - so I told her to ask Carpe, he knew **perfectly** well, and told her that she may have stopped the cannon but if she thought she could stop **me** , she was as big an idiot as her janitor.”_

Dandrane paused the tape, thinking. She could imagine the whole scenario quite vividly, picturing one of her old school principals in Mole’s place and a somewhat younger Filch in place of Carpe. It seemed Peeves got a kick out of everyone running around in a panic, like she had thought he might, and his dialogue - even if it wasn’t exactly what he might have said at the time - seemed almost comically supervillain-ish. That worried her a little, making her think that maybe her suspicions were right after all, even though she couldn’t say she never said overly-dramatic things to people she didn’t like. She also made thinly-veiled threats and - especially when confronting anyone dangerous - had a habit of fiddling with whatever weapon was handy, be it her wand, the back of her chair, or her drinking glass; it wasn’t until she became an Auror with a carry-permit that she would ever show off the handle to people who could get aggressive, too.

She pressed play.

> _“Then I popped away and watched as the entire castle huddle together on the front lawn. Mole tried to find me a few times, but I kept myself quiet, and the whole school ended up sleeping in tents outside for the next two nights._
> 
> _“So what happened during the next two days, you ask? Well, all the castle ghosts kept trying to find me and talk me down from my little outburst. Seemed to think they could **persuade** me. And eventually they just argued with me… Especially the Baron - he shook the whole castle trying to find me, shouting up a storm at every opportunity. Almost **caught me** at one point, when I wedged myself on top of one of the Headmistress’ bookcases, and…”_

Peeves trailed off, sounding very much like he didn’t want to say what had happened. The silence in the couple of seconds’ in-between was powerful enough. Dandrane wasn’t quite sure what the Baron’s power _was_ over Peeves, since Peeves refused to talk about it, but it had to be painful. The poltergeist could be clocked in the face unexpectedly, and he understood physical pain, though he never seemed to keep the scratches she thought she left on his back, and he said himself that he didn’t bruise and had never been cut. So what on Earth could the Bloody Baron _do_? Unless the change in atmosphere that the ghost could do gave Peeves a migraine or something… She honestly wondered if she’d ever really know for sure.

Even if she understood why the Baron was seriously pissed at Peeves in this case, she felt her disdain for the ghost grow, and her Auror-sensibilities made her want to grind her teeth together. She was taught first and foremost to try and _negotiate_ when hostages were involved, not just try to off the perpetrator right away, and if she was right in the belief that Peeves wouldn’t deliberately cause death or serious harm to people, then clearly the castle ghost didn’t think things through.

> _“Well…’s not important. Let’s just say the castle felt... **horrible** , for a while after that. Almost stopped myself from finishing my little standoff, at one point, but...there’s no way I could, you know, no matter how much they all wanted me to. Mole had gotten the Ministry’s Spirit Division involved, and they were trying their best to find me – bunch of wimps, really, but it was the principle of the thing. One sneaky cannon-fire and they ran out with their tails between their legs! They tried to come back in and hex me after that, but whatever they used bounced off the mirror I hid behind, because he had to be dragged out by his arms. _
> 
> _“Friar Glaedwine found me after that, funny enough. Poor sod was begging me to stop everything, so I just told him I was tired of being mistreated and underestimated, and hey, I was missing people an awful lot for a guy with great aim, wasn’t I? Wasn’t my fault these so-called ‘spirit experts’ had their own spells backfire on them, neither. But you know, he asked nicely, so I told him about the trap Carpe had laid for me in the first place, still sitting around undisturbed - that changed his tune. Seemed Carpe hadn’t been very honest with Mole when she cornered him on the front lawn the first day. The Friar wasn’t so upset after that, even if he said he couldn’t support what I was doing. Made sense, I guess, given his whole deal about peace and prosperity. I think he took the whole damn Council along to examine the weapon pile after that conversation, and I think for once they believed me; though our relationship hasn’t been very good since the whole incident. Can’t really blame them for that, I s’pose._
> 
> _“So the Spirit Division’s run out of ideas, Mole’s at her wits end with the ghosts telling her about how it all came about in the first place, and I actually remember seeing Carpe cry through one of the telescopes when Mole was yelling at him. It’s the end of the second day, and not an hour after her little row with our janitor she comes marching back up to the front door and asking me - I mean, loudly, but she was **asking** \- that we have a talk. So I kept the little blunderbuss on hand, as well as a cutlass, just so she doesn’t get any ideas, and we sit in the Great Hall at one of the end tables. **She** sat, anyway - I hovered above the table so I could keep my eye on the front door and made sure she put her wand at the far end so we wouldn’t have any little slip-ups.”_

_Good boy,_ Dandrane thought with a proud little smirk. _Nice to know someone in this story knows the standard practice for negotiations._   

> _“And then she actually looked at me, square in the eye, and apologized for Carpe’s behavior. Said she’d fire him if it made me less trigger-happy. I thought that was genuinely funny. And...well, you know, kind of nice. But I didn’t want him fired - just wanted to knock some sense into him, get him to realize all his efforts to expel me were pointless. Didn’t tell her that, though. I liked the woman, but not **that** much._
> 
> _“So we banter a bit, and then she asks what I would want in exchange for putting a stop to my little take-over of the castle. I tell her whatever she’s willing to grant, I want in writing, because I figure she might take whatever I want away within minutes of giving it to me. She was a Gryffindor, but I swear she had the mindset of a Slytherin. Funny how that happens, getting shuffled into one house but still having so many traits from another… Anyway, she agreed, scribbled some note off to a solicitor asking for a contract on behalf of the school, and asked exactly what I wanted. I mean, I only just then realized I could ask for **anything**. I was ready to just have a note saying there wouldn’t be any more attempts at getting rid of me, but I started thinking… If I could have anything, I wanted some fun things, too. Unfortunately for you, Danny, I can’t find my copy of our little contract, but I still remember what I asked for._
> 
> _“First and foremost was stopping any and all attempts on my ‘life’. I think it wound up being worded like ‘any attempted expulsions or entrapments on Peeves should be treated as a violent assault’ or something... Either way it became punishable and a strict no-no from then on._
> 
> _“Secondly - and I know you’re going to make that ‘gross’ face at this - I asked for a swim in the toilets.”_

Dandrane had a little cucumber sandwich halfway to her lips when her nose wrinkled and her mouth automatically tugged into a grimace. _God, Babe - why?!_

> _“It seems weird **now** , but back then, those flushing toilets were brand new. As in, they had been installed during the **summer**. It was a brand-new muggle contraption that everyone raved about and some wizards had gotten it into their heads that schools should have it to help be more sanitary - and, I mean, they weren’t **wrong** \- so they plopped ‘em in, and I found myself with the hilarious new pass-time of making them overflow and jumping out of the empty ones when no one suspected. And breaking them whenever I felt like giving Carpe a hard time, of course. So a ‘swim’ meant I could pop out of them all I wanted, as long as it was in the morning, once a week, and only in the boy’s rooms on the first floor. It got the most popular in the morning there and our brave little Head wouldn’t let me have more than one floor. Haven’t really taken advantage of it in several decades, but honestly, it got boring after a while. I should’ve asked for something explosive instead… Oh, well. Live and learn, right? Ha ha ha!  _
> 
> _“So, **thirdly** , I asked for throwing privileges. Doesn’t really matter what, I said, as long as I get to legally throw it at anybody I wanted. Mole figured stale bread would be the safest, and I figured that was good enough - not like I haven’t nicked it and thrown it at kids before anyway, but now it was given to me on purpose! But you know, after that last addition, I couldn’t help but think something else was missing. Privileges were great, but what I needed was something to constantly remind everyone of how the whole thing came about._
> 
> _“And wouldn’t you know, during the whole conversation, I thought it funny that our Headmistress’ fashion choices for this whole occasion were so off-balance. Dressed like it was Easter and the Minister of Magic was coming to call, she was. Pretty sure she just liked to show off a bit, personally, with that new hat of hers… And I thought of taking it for myself right then, you know, so she’d feel humiliated, but I wanted something with more personality to it. Ooh, you could **see** her thinking when I asked her where she got it, and I knew it was expensive the second I heard ‘Madame’. Too late for her to turn back now, though, since she said I could ask for **anything** , and she was already getting tired of arguing with me over the fine lines of my other stuff, so I told her to fetch Madame Bonhabille herself and pay for whatever I chose to get._
> 
> _“And let me tell you, the look on Madam Bonhabille’s face when she saw me the next morning was **priceless**. She was so tired and pissed off from being dragged away from work, but she kept trying to act all polite and ladylike anyway. Guess Mole offered her a bundle to come as fast as possible. So she handed me a catalogue and went off on a talk about this year’s lineup for men and whatnot, but you know me, Danny, I’m not one for convention as it is. **Madame** took a lot of inspiration from muggle fashion and found English wizard hats boring - can’t blame her there, we’ve been wearing those pointy hats for **centuries** \- so her stuff was basically all ‘modern’ muggle stuff with some twists. Men’s hats were all the same, though, so I threw those aside immediately - can’t imagine myself in a top hat for the life of me.” _

Well, _she_ didn’t think he’d look too bad in one. _Bit of a showman vibe, though, with those coattails,_ she thought as she munched on a ham-brie-and-apple sandwich. Though he wouldn’t look bad in a bowler, either, the weird belled hat _did_ fit his unconventional nature. Maybe it was the best fit, after all.

> _“Madame didn’t like that much; found it **unbecoming** of me. Ha! Like I’m here to impress **her**! But I flip and flip through designs, and what do I see but the hat sitting on my head right now… Without bells, mind you, but swapping out a few feathers and flowers for more bells was easy. Wanted to be a constant reminder that I was around, you know, so more noise the better! I’ve lost a lot of the inner-bits over the years, but what can you do... Madame gave me one of those snooty looks - you know the kind - and signed over the details with Mole, and I made sure to tell both of them that I wouldn’t be letting anyone back in until it was done. Ooh, the look on that Frenchwoman's face… I’m pretty sure she would’ve joined forces with Carpe if he weren’t ‘below her station’, as they say. Bet anything she and Mole argued on the way down to the village, with the daggers she was glaring our Head’s way. _
> 
> _“So I got to rule the roost for another six hours, and then Mole comes back to the castle with the box herself. I swear, Danny, I finally understood what royal coronations felt like after hearing them talked about for so long - it was like I was putting on a **crown**. I felt like I was some kind of secret king of the castle or something, strolling about with this thing on every day… The feeling hasn’t entirely worn away, either. Days when people piss me off - I mean **really** piss me off - I feel this thing’s little weight on my head and know that if they made one slip-up, just **one** , I could shut them up for good. _
> 
> _“That came out a little more ominous than I wanted… Well, you know what I meant.”_

Dandrane managed a little smile as she crumpled the now empty paper bag and shoved it back into her pocket.

> _“So with the weapon pile put in Mole’s arms and my new hat on my head, the school came waltzing back in by nightfall, all with the exclusive order of keeping their mouths shut, else severe punishment come down from on high. Lessons went on, students graduated, and teachers kept their stiff upper lips while watching their backs a little better in corridors. Carpe wasn’t the same after that, funny enough - decided to take early retirement at the end of the term and walked around the school like he was dying. Probably just on the inside, but I took what I could get from ol’ Carpe. He was easily rattled after that, one shake of my bells and he got as spooked as those owls when I shot the cannon from the Owlery stairs! The big difference between him and the owls, though, was that the owls actually tried to fight me when I got near them afterward._
> 
> _“So why did I decide to tell you **this** little story? I know you’re much more curious about how I got everything else I’m wearing, but those aren’t as interesting. I basically **found** those. This is something I thought you’d like to hear, with it being a cover-up story and some history you’d never find in a book...and it’s something I’ve never told **anyone**. Of course, I think you’re the only person I’d ever tell the whole thing to in the first place, even if it did get out somehow... You’re the only person I really feel comfortable saying a lot of things to… Hell, the only people I ever talked like this to died over nine-hundred years ago! Not **exactly** like this, though… That would’ve made the early days **real** awkward.”_

He laughed a little, but it sounded a lot gentler than usual. Only slightly teasing.

> _“You know, I… I like watching you pick out details and figure things out, even when you get a little obsessive - you just sink your teeth into it and you don’t let go. I hope you feel that way about me, too, ha ha!”_

_Babe_...

> _“And this is gonna sound weird, but I like just...being around you, I guess. You’re too charming for your own good. Well, charming in **my** book, anyways. And I’d egg anyone who says you’re not the prettiest girl on two legs that’s ever walked through this place…if you didn’t get to them **first,** that is.”_

The witch felt blood rushing to her face as a fluttering excitement burst forth that she was powerless to stop, no matter how much she tried to will it away. _What a flirt._

> _“Hope you don’t mind me saying this, Danny, because I actually mean it for once:”_

Dandrane could practically hear her own heartbeat drum in her ears. Nerves and excitement wound together in her chest. She wanted to hear what he was going to say, but at the same time she didn’t want to hear at all.

> _“Happy Valentine’s Day - know you hate it, but I promise I won’t ever get sappy or ‘nything.”_

It was a relief to hear, and surprisingly, she felt touched. It wasn’t a forced confession, like she sort of feared, but something that actually sounded genuine, and God damn it, she wished she could whoosh back to the castle and kiss the little fiend. And maybe threaten him about pointing weapons at students ever again...but mostly, she wanted to kiss him. Maybe pin him to the couch… He could be pinned so easily, being so short, and he seemed to really like having her hips over his...

 _No, no, no - no fantasizing. We’re technically on duty until four. Save those thoughts for later_.

Dandrane looked back down at the tape recorder still in her hands, still running - did Peeves not want to sign off, or did he forget?

> _“Hey, Danny, no one’s around you, right?”_

The voice was hushed and she could practically _hear_ his mischievous smile.

> _“If someone else is listening, you’d best get them far away. Because...about that **favor** you owe me. I have an **idea…** It’s a guideline, sure, but I think you’ll like it.”_

The woman felt her cheeks burn hot from his tone of voice, arousal already tingling between her legs. Should she listen the whole way through, or…? Her finger hovered above the stop button, ready to press.

> _“We can do this whenever, but we’ll talk about it more later – pretty sure you have Village Guide duty today, right? But here’s the **rough** bits –”_

The tape stopped with a hard press before he could get another word in. She knew that sultry tone. No siree, she was not going to get all hot and bothered while sitting in public, even if she was just wedged alone in a corner of a bookstore. She downed the rest of her coffee, letting the smooth caffeinated beverage calm her libido as she thought of what to do for the next several hours.

Well, first things first - she should listen to the whole tape again, from the beginning, just in case she missed something. Second, a scrounge through the shelves for any Hogwarts history books she hadn’t seen before. Hell, even the ones she already read through - she might have missed something there, too… And she might as well have a look through their ghost-lit stuff, even if it wasn’t organized at all. She only ever got partway through the store as it was…

Hours of pouring over shelves and making notes in her miniature notebook later, Dandrane found herself sitting at the bar of The Three Broomsticks with a half-finished plate of Irish Stout Stew and an empty glass of red wine, looking over her notes and one of the weirder supernatural books she had found in the bookstore and wondering if she was over-thinking. It reminded her of Speaking with the Dead, but with a lot more tip-toeing around mentioning certain magic-users that shouldn’t be named. It actually had mentions of poltergeists from all over Europe, too, but it only ever mentioned the unseen ones found in houses and hospitals and the like. Still, she had scoured every inch of text, looking for something, _anything_ useful, and now she was wondering if Peeves was the true anomaly in all of history or if the rest were just shy about showing themselves. Even if half her thoughts ran around in ludicrous circles, at least it was better time spent than listening to some of the conversations around her.

Some were normal, others were that of flirty or shy dates, and others were disgruntled people lamenting being ignored (at least one of which was pointedly ignored by her), but good God, they were either very boring or things she could’ve been happier _not_ hearing. At least there was no decorations in there to fuel her disgust…

“There, there, love, I know how you feel,” came a man’s voice from her left. He was pouring on the charm like no tomorrow. “My own heart’s been broken more times than I’d like, but they say everythin’ ‘s meant to happen… Even meetin’ you.”

The girl he was talking to giggled shyly, and Dandrane rolled her eyes hard. _Come on, don’t fall for that ‘destiny’ shit. Dudes like him are a dime a dozen._

“You’re too pretty to not have more friends. Hey, how about we get outta here, kick about the town for a bit; what d’ ya say? I know some hidden spots ya prob’ly haven’t seen b’fore.”

 _What, like your dick?_ Dandrane mentally commented with a snort.

“Well, um, I don’t know,” came a familiar voice, shy and sounding a bit uncomfortable. Dandrane lifted her head up to look, thinking that she might just help the unfortunate girl out by casually walking over, and almost snapped her quill.

Francine Tarquin, the fifth-year Gryffindor, was talking to a guy with a face too fully-filled out and shoulders too toned to be a teenager. It no longer mattered if she was uncomfortable or not.

Dandrane stood up from her seat, anger making her hands and jaw clench, and she walked around them until she was next to her student. “Francine, _there_ you are,” she said, her own ‘mother hen’ voice sounding forced through her raw anger.

Francine almost jumped in her seat, but she didn’t look like the frightened girl caught red-handed with a bottle of love potion three months ago. She looked relieved, but she was stiff and somewhat nervous.

Dandrane glanced at the clock above the bar – it was a quarter to four. Perfect. “You know you’re supposed to be waiting at the gate to go back up to school,” the witch chided, peeking over at the man next to them. He avoided her gaze, choosing to take another swig of whiskey, but he swallowed it a little too hard. Shit, he must have been in his early twenties, with his stubble!

“Er, sorry, Professor – I should be going,” Francine apologized, standing from her stool a little too fast to seem normal, “er, nice talking to you, Brandy.”

He gave what was probably an attempt at a charming crooked grin, raising his glass at her. “Cheers, love. See you ‘round.”

Dandrane forced herself not to punch him square in his creepy face. Her palms were probably bleeding, but she couldn’t feel them too well. Francine glanced at her, hesitating for a moment as if trying to see whether the professor was going to accompany her out or not, and skittered away like she just robbed the till while the barmaid’s back was turned.

“So – _Brandy_ , was it?” Dandrane asked, practically feeling the acid of her words on her tongue as she took off her shades and slid them into her jean pocket. “How quaint. And yet, you’re drinking _whiskey_.”

He eyed her. He looked like he wanted to leave, but didn’t want to run. “Got ta drink somethin’, love.”

The witch felt her mouth curl into a sharp smile – the man got a funny look. “You’re going to be drinking your own blood if you so much as _think_ about trying to hit on one of my students again.”

Brandy looked a little surprised, but it only lasted a second. “Ha, like I’d try to get it on wit’ some young bit,” he commented confidently, not looking at her. He took another swig and set the empty glass back down hard.

“Don’t give me that shit,” Dandrane spat, her fury rising. “I know your type. Women your age don’t appeal to you – teenage girls don’t know any better, do they? They’re weaker to _cheap flattery_. Let me guess:  you probably told her she was mature for her age? Too pretty to still be at Hogwarts – or was it too pretty to be _alone_?”

He finally glanced back at her, but she knew from the look on his face that she was right on all accounts. “You dunno what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, love,” he insisted. “You got no proof. Besides, I can talk to whoever I want, whenever I want – no crime in talkin’, is there?” He said confidently, standing and slamming some coins on the bar.

“Pretty sure ‘attempting solicitation of a minor’ _is_ a crime, fucknuts.”

“As I said, you’ve got no proof, _Professor_ ,” Brandy sneered, straightening himself to his full height.

She heard the tinkling of glass and knew a couple of nearby bottles or glasses had broken. Her grip was on her wand, and she practically felt magic flowing through her veins as rage built ever higher. Her grip tightened, but the wood remained firm.

“I don’t need proof to _kick your ass_ , you sick _pedo_.”

She was actually thrown off by the punch to her eye, and she did stumble half a step, but adrenaline pumped through her. Rage was peaked.

Dandrane couldn’t see herself, but she knew the grin she wore right then was nothing short of maniacal. She could feel it brewing in her, rage and thrill and vengeance combining into a big mess.

A flicker of doubt passed over his eyes – several shades darker than her own – but he was ready to throw another hit, and _swung_ –

She caught his fist halfway with her left hand, gripping it hard and hearing the faint crack of bones as she pulled him forward, almost slumping over her shoulder, and in a swift move planted her knee into his gut.

He slacked, going red and giving out a heave of pain as the wind was knocked out of him, and she grabbed his sleeve with her wand still in her hand and tossed him to the floor. “You picked the wrong day to mess with one of my kids,” she said with a gleeful spite, pointing her wand at his wounded form. He looked like he was going to puke. A flick of her wand and he slid back over to the bar like a car skidding out of control, slamming into several of the hard, ancient stools.

She felt eyes on her, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t tell if it was quiet or not with the blood pounding in her ears.

“OY!” A woman’s voice rang out from behind her somewhere. Madame Rosemerta, no doubt. (Why were they always _madams_?) “There ‘ll be no fightin’ in my bar!”

Brandy was glaring daggers as he stood himself up from the downed-and-broken stools, reaching behind his back; for a moment, Dandrane thought he might have been packing heat, but then remembered that she was in Scotland and there was no way anybody in the room had a handgun unless they were MI6, and they were in a magic bar filled with magic-users.

By the look of horrified realization on the man’s face, she reckoned he broke his wand. He pulled out the stick from around his back, and sure enough there was a long dark shiny thread connecting the broken pieces of wood, like a strand of horsehair. “You broke my wand!”

“You know, it’s hard to feel sorry for a pedophile. Doubly hard when it’s one who _punched_ _me_.”

Brandy seemed to be assessing the situation, given his shifty look and red, angry face, but Madame Rosemerta hustled her way in-between them, shooting a _reparo_ at the broken stools.

“Alright, break it up! I told you no fightin’! Don’t want another bloody mess…” Rosemerta shifted her angry stare to Dandrane. It felt like every eye in the pub was trained on them. “What’s all this about?”

“He was trying to solicit one of my students, so I told him to back off, and he punched me. I’m afraid the rest is self-defense.”

“Ya bloody _bitch!_ ” Brandy made a move towards her, but Rosemerta’s own wand pointed at his face.

“What I just finish _sayin’_ , Brandy?!”

He huffed through his nostrils, still looking very much like he’d like to punch the both of them, but instead he grabbed his jacket off the bar. “Fine. Leavin’ anyway.”

“And _you_ ,” Rosemerta said with a glare at Dandrane as Brandy stomped out, “that girl was sixteen and well within her rights.”

“ _Fif_ teen,” Dandrane corrected, narrowing her eyes at the barmaid, “Her birthday isn’t until June. That not even close to ‘adult’ in my book.”

There was a change in Rosemerta’s eyes, but her frown remained. It seemed like she didn’t want to cop to her mistake. “Get out,” she said with a nod of her head towards the door.

“I am sorry for the mess,” Dandrane noted, putting her glasses back on her face and looking out into the crowd. Lots of people were watching, some trying to make it seem like they couldn’t care less. “And if there are any more _Hogwarts students_ here,” she called, eyeing the groups of teenagers watching from the tables, “I _better_ see you out by the gate in two minutes.” She turned back around, zooming her stuff back into her waiting hands with a wave of her wand, and heard a chorus of chair scrapes behind her as she swept through the door.

Thankfully, Brandy – or whatever his real name was – had decided not to linger around and try to finish their little fight. Fresh snow had apparently been falling for a while, maybe an hour, and there was a set of new tracks leading away from the door that seemed to stop only a few yards away.

The winter air cooling her down, Dandrane shrugged her coat back on and made for the gates, where she could see a small crowd had already gathered to wait for her in the distance. Her eye stung with each blink, her knuckles were sore, and her palms hurt, but it had been worth it.

All the same, she still hated the fucking holiday. It always brought out the worst in people…

*~*~*~*~*

By the time Dandrane got back to her office, she wanted nothing more than to sit down and take a nap for the next several hours, dinner be damned. Not that she thought she could sleep – her brain was running around, half exhausted by questions of her own and those of the students who were bold enough to ask her what happened in the pub on the way back to the castle. She hurt in several places and her legs were tired from the climb back up the hill and the stairs, and her mouth felt kind of dry.

She managed the sitting part, at least, as she sunk onto the couch and shot flames into the fireplace. The whole office lit up in a warming glow, brightening her mood slightly, but she still didn’t want to move much. She didn’t want so much as to take off her shoes.

She was going to be reprimanded, no doubt, for starting a fight in the local bar. In front of kids, no less. She had a feeling the story of it was rushing around the school that very instant. She’d have to explain herself, and who knew if McGonagall was going to take her side or ban her from teaching at the school when the year was up. It was just a matter of time until the Headmistress came knocking on her door and demanding an explanation.

The witch felt almost like a student again, and she grunted, leaning her head back onto the carved wood.

“Bad day?”

Dandrane’s eyes snapped back open, meeting Peeves’ glittering dark ones through her lenses. He was hovering in the air, looking rather pleased with himself. “Pretty much.”

“Couldn’t be _that_ bad. Boring, maybe.” The poltergeist grinned down at her. “Didn’t my little gift make it any better?”

“You’re opening up a can of worms, there, babe,” Dandrane replied, narrowing her eyes at the little man, and his grin shrank to something apprehensive. She knew the whole misadventure wasn’t his fault. She sighed, her shoulders slacking further than they already were. “You know I hate Valentine’s Day, right?”

“Never said anything ‘bout not wanting a present, though,” he said in a sneaky voice, crossing his arms.

“Babe, listen to me – I hate it. Flat-out _hate_ it. I appreciate the gesture, it was sweet, and probably the best one I’ve ever gotten…but honestly, I’d rather never have to celebrate this stupid fucking holiday ever again.”

Peeves’ grin returned. “That bad, eh? Well, don’t worry, Danny, promise I won’t ever give you another one.”

“If you knew I hated it, then why did you make it a valentine to begin with?”

“Didn’t plan to, at first,” Peeves said, floating over and taking a seat next to her on the couch, turned just so he could face her. “Thought about telling you that story myself, but then I realized it’d be more fun to give you a tape of it. ‘S a good story, isn’t it?” The blackness of his eyes shined like stones in a cave. “Figured you’d like to hear it more than once. Then you mentioned having to go do guide duty last week, and I knew you hated Valentine’s, so I thought I could make both a little better.”

Dandrane almost wanted to beat up the part of her brain that had doubted him. “You’re not…expecting something _back_ , right?”

“You _just_ said you hated it. Why would I expect a valentine from _you_?”

He really looked earnest. And teasing, as he did quite often, but that was just how he was. “You’re _really_ not expecting sex in return or anything.”

He seemed confused by for a moment, but turned delightfully sultry. “You listen all the way to the end, then?” Peeves asked with a perverted leer, shuffling a little closer. “Didn’t think you’d be so eager, after toting the little squirts around… Still, wouldn’t say _no_.”

“I, um…didn’t quite get to the end,” Dandrane said, looking away to stare at the fire as her heart pounded. _That sweet little shit really didn’t expect anything in return_. _That’s a first…_ “I didn’t want to listen to it in public.”

“Shame,” he teased, seeming satisfied with that answer anyway. “So what _did_ you do?”

“Got some coffee, got sucked into the bookstore for several hours, made a lot of notes, and ended up in a bit of a pub brawl.”

His eyebrows rose and his grin widened in excitement. “You got in a _fight_? With who? What happened?”

“Saw some twenty-something try to make his move on a fifth-year girl, so I put a stop to it. I ended up knocking him into some empty barstools, but not before he got a hit in,” the witch said, pulling her shades off and wincing slightly at the amount of new light.

Peeves wasn’t grinning so wide. He sat up, almost leaning over her shoulder, and the smell of sage and musk filled her nostrils, making her heart beat a little harder; she attempted to stop it by clenching her hand a little, which made the ache in it worse. He was staring hard. “Some shiner,” he commented, something dark in his gaze.

“I think I’ve actually got something for it in my desk…” Dandrane hated to stand again, but she did anyway, moving a little slower than usual as she rifled through her top left drawer. It was in that one, wasn’t it…? Or was it one below…?

“Looking for something?” Peeves asked, tilted backwards over the armrest.

“My medical pouch – white with a red cross. Have you-”

“Bottom drawer on top of the liquor.”

He was right. And her bruise-away tablets were right where she left them… She popped one and chewed it, hating the chalky taste but forcing herself not to gag. She didn’t want to have to go all the way back to the bathroom to mix with water… She didn’t feel up to healing cuts with her wand, either. Plain old antibiotics would do for now. Be a good reminder to be more careful.

Peeves was watching her strangely as she went back over to him, pouch in hand. Like he was trying to puzzle out something he didn’t like. It wasn’t until she sank back down that he spoke again. “You’re really hurt.”

“Heh, this isn’t the worst I’ve ever been,” she said with an aloof shrug, pulling out the tape bandages and the tube of generic antibiotic goo. “Getting shot in the rib really makes stuff like this feel like a walk in the park.”

He took hold of one of her wrists, examining her fingers and turning her hand over, his eyes flashing at the crimson half-moons on her palms. “Got _mad_ , huh?” A bit of his usual humor returned, but it wasn’t quite right.

“Hard not to get pissed off with creeps like that running around, babe. If I don’t control myself then-”

“Then what?” He said sharply, “You break a few glasses? Knock over a chair or two? That stuff doesn’t _matter_.” He narrowed his eyes, his cheeks lavender. “Better than _this_.”

“It’s not _that_ bad,” Dandrane said defensively. Her nails had only gone a few millimeters in.

Peeves was no longer grinning at all. “These are still _raw_ ,” he pointed out, holding her hand open so she could see the bloody marks in the center of her hand. “Give me those,” he held out his other hand for the bandages.

 _He’s going to dress my wounds?_ _What’s the_ deal _with today?_ “Why?”

“If you want to make it worse, fine by me,” he half-sang, slowly pulling his hands away.

“No, just… Take them,” she grumbled, shoving them into his hand, and he beamed triumphantly a little in return. “I’m just surprised. I didn’t expect you to want to give first aid.”

The poltergeist hummed, twisting off the medicine cap and squirting a little onto her cuts, looking a little more cheerful. “You’re the exception, Danny. Can’t let my _special detective_ run around bleeding, can I?” He shot her a little knowing look, his lips quirked back up into a small smile, and she felt some of her muscles tense while others melted at the same time. “’Sides, pretty sure you’d just hurt yourself more, with those little talons.”

“They don’t seem to hurt _you_ ,” Dandrane teased, thinking of the last time she had grabbed hold of him, when they were screwing sideways the night before last, and it had been a good long hold, but he had just whined and bucked harder when she gripped hard.

“Practically _invincible_ , I am,” he grinned, wrapping the gauzy bandage tight around her palm. “Does hurt, actually – I just _like_ it.”

The witch felt the tingling between her legs grow hot. It wasn’t helping that his slightly cool touch was driving some of the aches in her hands away, both in her palms and her still-sore knuckles. He tore off the end of the bandage and tucked it behind the rest of the gauze, and she swore he was caressing the back of her other hand when he took that one to do next.

“Up for just about anything, really, ‘s long as it’s you.”

Oh God. Why did he have to be so alluring, with that stupid cute accent and teasing look in his glittering black eyes while he cared for her like he wasn’t a magic-eating little hellion?

"Wonder if I really just like _you_ , sometimes,” he said a bit more seriously, making another x shape. “Never really thought about anyone else this much...”

For the second time that day, Peeves made her heart skip a beat. Here he was, blushing adorably and taking care of her, biting his cheek like he always did when he was thinking something over. She felt so lucky, getting to witness that rare glimpse of softness… “So...you know what I did today,” she said quietly. “What about you? I noticed some raw eggs on the floor on my way in.”

“Oh, that?” Peeves grinned evilly, wrapping the last bit of bandage around her knuckles. “Just Valentine’s tradition; can’t let all those lovey-dovey kids walking around get _too_ cozy.” He tucked the end in just like he had on the other hand, and returned to looking at her, firelight dancing around in his eyes. “What’s _in_ those pills? Hardly any color left up there.”

“Babe, about the tape…”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Was that whole story true? Every word?”

“‘Course it was! You thinking I was telling wee porkie pies the whole way through?”

Dandrane snorted at the weird slang, a genuine smile returning for the first time in hours. “Where do you guys even come _up_ with some of that stuff?”

He shrugged, but looked rather amused. “Just kind of pick it up, really.”

She debated on whether or not just to ask him if the part about him missing the students on purpose was true, but she had been over that in her own head several times, and Peeves… He clearly had the ability to care. She was right. She knew it, she _felt_ it... “....you feel in the mood to tell me what was at the end of the tape?”

Peeves’ grin turned lecherous. “Dunno, you feel in the mood to _act on it?”_

“As long as it concerns me topping you, then yes.”

Judging by the devilish, excited look he gave her in return, she was in for a good tim _e._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know at least ONE of you kept checking for an update! Don’t think I didn’t notice, you sneaky devil! Well, this is for **you** , loyal reader(s?), because I wanted SO BADLY to finish it entirely before I put it out, but didn’t want to miss my deadline again because you [guys] were so eager, but thought: “Hey, I could just split this in two like sides of a tape...and it would work thematically...and I could improve the quality a lot...maybe add some new things…?” So here we are! I wanted to have at least one two-parter for this story anyway but didn’t know when I would have the opportunity. Guess it was destiny…
> 
> This chapter is The Valentine’s Day chapter, of course, and I’ve had Peeves-gives-Danny-The-Tape-as-a-Valentine planned for _months_ , but what I didn’t expect was it turning out so dark. I think it was a combination of me wanting to naturally subvert the “Valentine’s Day Hater likes the holiday again thanks to Partner’s actions” trope, wanting to write Danny fighting someone, wanting to flesh out the “Peeves Gets His Hat” story that Pottermore gave us the scraps of, and being kind of down in the dumps for a while. It was like my muse left my house during that period and wouldn't answer the door, but waved out the window at me a bit. Thankfully, some nice things happened IRL and the muse kicked down my front door with armfuls of ideas and non-stop talking. (I hope that metaphor made sense.) I actually wrote a lot of the Peeves Tape dialogue first, before the muse left for its impromptu vacation, and pretty much ended up writing around it. I like the result a lot, though. Kudos if you think Danny deserves a hug lol
> 
> So “Side B” will be released...probably in a week, two weeks at the most. If I don’t update again by Monday (10/23), assume it will be the Monday after (10/30). 
> 
> P.S. - Why is it that all those kids were allowed to just flounce about Hogsmeade without any teachers/chaperones in the books?!? What if someone got kidnapped or seriously injured?!! Especially since the youngest allowed down are 13!!! IDC if there’s “plants” in the village or “oh the adults are all trustworthy”, that’s INCREDIBLY irresponsible!!! Put at least ONE authority figure down there so all the kids can be accounted for at least!!!


	21. Tape #43, Side B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRICK OR TREAT! ꐑ(*ꐌ◡ꐌꐐ*)࿐࿔࿓ You want a Treat, right? Good news, it’s more kinky smut! I wonder if I should tag this as Lite D/s...? I mean, we mostly see Danny as a top...hmm… Anyway, if you were cool with all the earlier smut scenes, you should be fine with this, but there’s one additional change...
> 
> IMPORTANT SPOILER TAGS: bondage w/ handcuffs

Dandrane felt weird putting on her mental Auror-hat while wearing her partially-sheer nightgown, but it wasn’t off-putting. She still remembered waking up to phone calls in the middle of the night, when she donned that part of her personality the second she picked up the phone, but she couldn’t remember ever wearing that nightdress in particular when it happened… How strange.

Then again, so was Peeves’ request. It’d been simple and loose enough for them both to fill in the gaps with wills-and-won’ts, and she had an option of choosing between the nightdress and her leather jacket, since he liked the idea of both; she was a little surprised he hadn’t suggested fucking her in that jacket before now, since he always seemed to eye it whenever it was in view, and she knew he had a fetish for the material. _Guy’s full of surprises_ , she thought to herself with a quirk of a smile.

She turned her glasses over in her newly-bandaged hands as she watched her alarm clock tick the seconds by. Why he asked to do this at the top of the hour was beyond her. She’d forgone dinner entirely, not in the mood to deal with other people outside of Peeves for the moment and not feeling hungry, so it wasn’t like it _really_ mattered. She had taken a bit to clean herself up by sprucing up her eyebrows, brushing her teeth, splashing a bit of perfume in appropriate areas, and giving her calves and underarms a quick hit of Nair. She knew she didn’t _have_ to be smooth, since Peeves actually found the fuzz funny rather than gross or distracting, but she liked doing it anyway - she felt better after watching her little brown hairs wash down the drain in a little spiral of suds, like she was shedding her day’s frustrations. Like she was a snake shedding its skin to be born anew, maybe. Rather than being completely gone, though, her worries about the eventual talk with McGonagall of the afternoon’s excursion was shelved next to the Tylenol that she had downed to help with her sore spots.

The witch’s hands still ached a little, but she planned to use that as fodder, same as the questions that she had reserved or previously forgotten. Like her father said, anything life threw at you could be fuel for a story. A scene like this was just another _kind_ of story, told through words spoken from a half-formed mental script of character-acting and dirty talk combined with various sexual acts.     

The witch folded her sunglasses, set them on her night-table, and got under the covers, feeling oddly tense about having to lie and wait. She had to admit, her little poltergeist sure was imaginative; she’d be lying if she said she had never imagined him seducing her in the middle of the night, but it definitely wasn’t like this. The light went off with simple move of her hand.

She lay there, her eyes trying to adjust to the darkness, hungry anticipation settling over her while her inner-Auror’s nerves ringing a ‘something’s not right’ alarm. Despite the fact that she knew she was going to be the Dom in the situation eventually, her instincts about being watched wouldn’t shut off. _Stupid brain. You already know how this is going to go._

Should she close her eyes? Maybe that would help. She shut them, reminding herself that she was an Auror now, trying to sleep after a long day. There was no phone to wake her up because she had unplugged it, not because it wasn’t there at all…

She wasn’t at home, no, she was camping it out in one of those weird little themed hotels, traveling back home from a case in her little Barracuda. She had wanted the freedom to think as she drove down the long stretch of freeways and highways, wanted a brief change of scenery to help her mind clear before she got back on another case. Keep herself from thinking of the poltergeist that taunted her, knowing so much and saying so little, but only ever speaking clearly to _her_ , seeming to undress her with his eyes as he spoke.

Keep herself from thinking about how nice it felt to touch him. How easy it’d been to get him to _really_ talk, how great it’d been to hear that taunting, teasing high-pitched voice squeal and moan and _beg_ when she pinched or stroked his flesh in the right spots.

Keep herself from thinking how much she really wanted to do that again. He’d tasted human, that vaguely salty flavor to his skin… She wanted to know how the rest of him tasted. Badly. _Too_ badly. She rolled onto her back, legs spreading slightly, wondering if masturbating would solve the problem or enhance it, wondering if her new method of interrogating the little man who so obviously had a boner for her had gone too far. She’d put that matching device to his cock-ring in her, sure, but what was the point of getting a guy off if she couldn’t, either? It would’ve been a waste, otherwise…

She exhaled slowly through her nostrils, trying to ignore the thought of it being a complete farce, trying to ignore the fact that he fascinated her somehow and she wanted to know what it would be like to fuck his little brains out. _That_ was a familiar thought. She’d had it several times before. She’d hated it the first few, thinking herself weak and pathetic for even considering it. Now, though...   

Dandrane’s eyes flew open. She was being watched from somewhere in the bed’s canopy. Nothing above; nothing but dark stone and a bit of four-poster hangings. She turned her head.

His face was next to hers, his smile turning into a mischievous grin as she felt her heart stop. “Hello, Phlegmy.”

Dandrane didn’t even realize the covers were being pulled away by her unconscious magic like lightning. She was sitting up, reaching out, searching for where his hands were for a second before seizing his wrists in her bandaged hands and rolling herself on top of him.

She found herself kneeling over him, pinning his arms to the skewed covers, with adrenaline rushing every which way. Her bedside lamp flickered on with a twitch of her pinkie and a mere thought.

Peeves’ surprise morphed into his usual teasing grin, and even in the low light, she could see his eyes leering at her like she’d propositioned him. “Some way to greet a guy.” His glittering black gaze wandered to her hips, sitting over the tops of his legs. “Not that I’m _complaining_.”

“Why are you here?” She asked sharply, her voice cold.

His focus shot back up to her face. “Why are _any_ of us here? Life’s a mystery.”

“No, you shit,” Dandrane growled, looming closer. “Why are you _here_? In my _bed_?” She tried to search his gaze, but it was difficult when he looked so... _happy_. “How did you _find me_?”

“’s not important. Been looking for you, is all. And here we are.”

“Why?” She waited a beat, her thoughts going to where they definitely shouldn’t. Not when she was on top of him, not when her fingers were touching that soft skin of his. It was a beautiful light blue, like part of the early morning, when the sun was almost starting to peek over the horizon. That fit him, she thought, with his poltergeist-ness being somewhere between life and death. “You’ve got some nerve if you’re here looking for sloppy seconds.”

The poltergeist below her beamed. “I’ve got information for you.”

Ah, _that_ was his angle. She couldn’t have him milling about of his own accord, though. She couldn’t keep this position up, either - her groin was tingling. She was touching him too much for her own good, he wasn’t resisting at all, just _lying_ there, complacent… He _liked_ this. She could probably just sit on his face and he’d let her.

Not wanting to think on that, she made sure she was leaning her weight into him and dove her hand under her pillow to snatch her wand, and leaned back into a sitting position, yanking his arms with her in a harsh grip.

“Hey, careful, I could sprain, you know!” he said with a slight frown. She hesitated for a moment, but he wasn’t giving her a “ _halt”_ or a “ _pause”_. Just banter, it seemed. Maybe a warning without a real “ _pause”_ needed.

“Sit up and put your hands behind your back before I decide to _break_ them.” _Accio handcuffs,_ she thought as Peeves sat upright dutifully, his eyes still shining. The metal handcuffs flew out of the drawer and almost thwacked her in the hand, but she caught it - barely - and dropped her wand to snap the cuffs open and onto his wrists like bracelets. She heard the click of the lock. They were still re-enforced with strengthening charms, so maybe he couldn’t break them. Maybe he _could_. She wasn’t sure what his limits were, exactly.

He grinned at her anyway. “Really isn’t necessary, you know - I _did_ come to _you_.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” he teased, looking as if he was having the time of his life. “Come here to see you, give you something nice _free of charge_ , and you treat me like a common criminal…”

Dandrane was still leaning too close to him. She could smell him. It put her in mind of an ancient basement with burn-marks on the walls, where sage was growing like wild. She had a nasty thought about wanting to plunge into that basement - it made her want to laugh to herself and hit herself at the same time. “You don’t just give things away for free,” she said, feeling her lips quirk slightly into either a lopsided smile or a smirk. She wasn’t sure which.

“I do what I _want_. If I want to give something away, I do.”

“Fine. What is this ‘information’ you have?”

“Not going to tell you _now_ ,” he huffed playfully, examining the bedcovers. “You have to play nice to get _that_.”

“I could just hex it out of you.”

“Could, but won’t. Haven’t _yet_ , have you? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you _liked_ me,” he said knowingly, his tongue clicking to accentuate the word ‘liked’. It was the color of homemade jam, a strange reddish-purple. She mentally kicked herself for looking at it.

“You _don’t_ know better.” His eyes flashed when she pointed her wand at his throat. “Tell me what this information is, or I’ll put some volts into you.”

“Still don’t know how you’d do that,” he muttered, shifting slightly. “But... _fine_ , I’ll tell you, but next time I won’t help,” he whined, looking away with a pout.

As an Auror, she needed information just about any way she could get it. He wasn’t a bad informant when he felt like talking, and she’d met people who were far more upsetting. And she couldn’t help but think of how she’d like to take his lips between her teeth, just a little, to strike a tiny bit of fear in him along with other things… “Tell you what. Give me something useful, and I’ll do something _nice_ for you in return,” she said, moving the tip of her wand over the exposed part of his throat and up the bottom of his jaw towards his chin. She could see him shiver underneath it, and his eyes sparked gloriously. “Anything _else_ and you’ll be wishing all I knew was a stinging hex.”

“Some ultimatum… Lucky I like you, Phlegmy,” he purred as she moved away from him, settling into sitting back on her calves in front of him, still pinning his legs under her weight. He watched her, seeming to catch a glimpse of her chest bounce. Not like they bounced _much_ , with them being permanently between an A-cup and a B-cup. Puberty seemed to take what could’ve been inches on her chest and shoved them into her limbs, and it was both an absolute blessing and a slight disappointment to her. She could easily disguise herself as a young man when she needed to and could get away without having to wear stupidly-expensive bras all the time, but she couldn’t keep anything in-between her breasts like a phone or a knife like her larger-chested friends could.

Peeves’ seemed to like the view anyway, since his eyes drifted back down a bit with an excited leer. “Getting chilly, isn’t it?”

She frowned, fighting down the embarrassment. “It’s _winter_ , dumbass. Now talk or get shocked.”

He smirked. “‘S a good look for you, is all.” Her wand twitched to point back up to his face, but he paid it no mind. “Remembered what made those holes in the cupboard.”

Dandrane set her wand back down, mind rushing and her role as an Auror shifting aside. The cupboard...the one from the Shrieking Shack, the one that neither of them could figure out. He couldn’t remember what it was before. “You _did_?”

“Mm- _hmm_. Found a tapestry with the seams in the same places. Took a bit, but remembered some kids from _years_ ago let a buck loose in the castle for a while, and it rammed into the thing. Swear it looked just like it.”

 _Oh you beautiful little man, I could kiss you._ But she didn’t. _Couldn’t_. They’d agreed before that if she was playing an Auror then kissing would be too romantic - Peeves had gotten a bit put out at the idea, but she’d told him that kissing him after the scene was over felt amazing, and he’d agreed, especially after they already tried it once. But the temptation to suck on his tongue was still there, and incredibly powerful.

“Alright,” she said, a real smirk forming on her face as she moved to sit her hips over his. He sat up straight, surprised and delighted, eyes practically glowing as she sank down in his lap, pushing down on him just a little too much. “Congratulations, that _was_ useful. You’ve earned the right to suck on my tits, if you want.”

“ _Just_ that?” He asked, eying her chest appreciatively. It took strength not to just shove him there.

“What, you’re being _picky_?” She asked, raising a brow as her Auror-hat went back on. “I guess if you’re a good boy and answer a couple more questions, I could give you a bit more.”

She knew she hooked him. He looked delightfully devilish. “Deal.”

It was completely worth not spilling _exact_ details of what she had in mind when he’d told her what he wanted for his ‘request’. He practically dove forward to nestle his face against her chest, not bothered by the fact that it was concealed by her nightgown. He hummed a little, and through the sheer fabric Dandrane felt the coolness of his face press against her breast. She had never been a big fan of cold sensations during sex, but in his case, she wanted to press herself against it. Maybe it was because his mouth was busy pressing against her nipple, or maybe it was just because it was him. Maybe because he took no time in opening wide and sucking on the hardened bit of flesh.

“Not even going to wait until I undress, huh?” She asked as his tongue pushed her nipple in. He hummed in response, looking up at her through his dark lashes. She pushed down the sleeve of her opposing shoulder, letting the large v-shaped scoop slip away off her unattended breast. She remembered when she had bought the gown, finding it funny that it reminded her of another era, looking like some odd mid-century ball-gown, made with two thin layers of sheer material over a thin satin slip. It was a ‘classy’ nightie whose length and feel made her picture herself as a protagonist in one of those gothic romances. She was definitely feeling that vibe right now, considering this was a taboo ran-de-vu between a human woman and a man somewhere between life and death...  

Peeves switched to her other nipple a little too slowly for her liking, but the feel of his lukewarm lips directly on her skin chilled her and melted her insides at the same time. She almost arched forward into it as his tongue made lazy strokes and swirls. The heat between her legs was warming his lap, too, and she couldn’t wait to grind into him later. But patience was its own reward.

Dandrane reached around to grasp his hair between her fingers, caressing the pomade-coated locks for a moment and considering pushing him towards her more when his whole mouth suckled at her, but he groaned into her breast and she pulled his head away forcibly. “Time’s up, you’ve had enough for now,” she teased. “I heard about the 3-Day Heist on Hogwarts. That giant bell-jar that fell on top of you...it was enchanted right? What with, exactly?”

“That was a hundred years ago, you know.”

“Over one-hundred-and-thirty, actually.”

“Exactly! Can’t remember _everything_ ,” he said in an attempt to dodge the question. She wasn’t sure if he really couldn’t answer or if he was playing around. “What you want to know for?”

Ah, no, he was playing around. The witch shifted her hips slightly, slipping her groin over his. He didn’t make a noise, but his expression shifted like he was giving a mental _‘ooh’_. “I want to get a better _grasp_ of you. You supposedly broke out of an enchanted cage back then,” she purred, sliding her hand around his head to cup his cheek. Color blossomed underneath it. “It’s not as impressive if I don’t know what exactly the charms were. So tell me.”

“Don’t knew them _all_...”

“And here I was, ready to give you something good if you behaved…” Dandrane ran her fingers down his neck and past his collar, where buttons slid away with a thought and a touch. She didn’t have to strip him entirely. Just enough to push him down and taste her way to the real prize.

“Several variations of reinforcement and anti-breaking charms,” he said somewhat breathily as her fingers trailed lower. “Don’t your hands hurt...?”

“What, you’re _concerned_? How _sweet_ ,” she snarked, shifting backwards to have more access to him. “What else was there?”

“...an anti-breath charm…”

She was undoing the buttons on his trousers now, and he was growing nice and hard. She drooled at the thought of pushing him down and just eating him right then... She could, but she wouldn’t. She wanted to savor it, make it incredible, and make him repay the favor.

“And some of those... _sticky_ charms,” he added, unable to stop looking longingly at where her hands were. “Kept it held down tight.”

Dandrane cupped his groin through the cloth still partially covering him, hearing a little groaning whine in response. “Not a bad idea,” she teased, rubbing her hand over him as the last few buttons slid open. His cock practically sprang free, and she traced around the curved edge of the head with her index finger. “So how did you get out of such a reinforced little cell, then?”

“I...er, don’t...really know?” His cheeks had gone lavender and his eyes were soft and foggy.

She attempted to grasp his shaft, but it was no fun, not feeling the mild heat against her palm… “Hmm, I don’t think my hands are going to be very good at this today.”

Peeves shifted forward a little, looking a little fierce. “You’d better not stop.”

The witch took her hand away completely, smirking at him even though a twinge of anger fluttered through her. “Are you trying to give me _orders_? You don’t seem to realize what I could do to you.”

“Yeah?” He teased, a spark in his gaze, “Tell me, then.”

Dandrane couldn’t stop her grin as she slid sideways off his lap and backed away towards his side of the bed. “I’ll _show_ you.” Her feet planted on the stone floor, sending an awful chill through her legs, but it didn’t matter; she grabbed Peeves butt with both hands and pulled him towards her, spinning and dragging him until his legs were somewhat over the edge of the bed and she stood between them. He looked surprised, but rather excited - especially when she tossed the pillow he’d put his head against earlier on the ground so she could kneel before him. “I don’t need a wand or branding iron to torture you, Peeves,” she said nonchalantly as she tugged his trousers down a couple of inches. “I’ve got something much better.”

Fuck, did he smell good. A weird kind of good, but it was still better than other guys she’d gone down on; maybe because he didn’t sweat. It was just his own scent with a bit more mustiness than usual mixed with pre-cum. The reddish-purple head of his penis was peeking out over his slightly-darker-blue foreskin, a single drop of pre-cum leaking out as if to greet her, and she didn’t stop herself from flicking her tongue out to catch it.

The noise he made in response was wonderful. She snickered, feeling evil, and grabbed hold of his thighs. “Man, you’re easy. One little lick,” she breathed, making him shift in his seat a bit, “and you’re already desperate.”

More than likely he was going to contradict her, but Dandrane swirled her tongue around the tip, pushing at his foreskin slightly, and all he could do was give a high little moan. She pulled away just enough to push the loose skin down, popping his head out into the air, and ran her tongue under the mushroom-like curve as she pinned him down. He _tasted_ human, and he felt warm to the touch. Just how long did it take for her skin to heat him up until he was red hot?

The witch took his cock’s head in her mouth, the thrill of unprotected oral making her mouth water. She was blowing a _poltergeist_ of all things - no one else could ever say the same. No one else could testify about the only known fully-physical poltergeist’s odd warmth and the hungry arousal that rang through his voice. This was just for her ears, just as her performance here was only for him. No other mortal would know this, and no other poltergeist would feel this.

He wasn’t a big man. He was a rough five inches long and maybe one-and-a-third wide, but she was still mindful not to scrape him with her teeth as she sank her head down his shaft, pushing her tongue against him. He was a great size for her, really, just big enough to matter elsewhere but just small enough so her jaw didn’t feel uncomfortable. She couldn’t take him all the way to her throat in this position, but that wasn’t the point, anyway. She was focused too much on how good it felt to taste him and feel him in her mouth, how wonderful the noises he made were, how desperate he must feel not being able to touch her head and keep her down there. The poltergeist was entirely at her mercy.

She was going to keep him that way.

She’d only gone a few strokes in when she pulled herself away, emphasizing the slurping pop of her mouth as his dick greeted the night air once more. Through the glossy fog of arousal, Peeves looked surprised at her.

“Why’d you-?”

“How did you get out of such a strongly reinforced cell?” She asked, grinning up at him.

“You…” He looked desperate and frustrated, and she only grinned wider. “...I hit the glass. That’s...that’s all I remember. I was angry. You’ve...you’ve toppled stuff before, right? Made big gusts of wind when you’re pissed?” He was sobering up a little, but his cock was still stiff.

“Yes.”

“Was like _that_. Can you _please_ go back to sucking me off?”

 _Wow, he even pulled the magic word out._ “Hmm, in a moment,” Dandrane taunted, tracing a line down his length with one of her fingers. “You said there was no air in there, though. I take it the weapons weren’t flying around with you?”

“No...”

She decided to kiss the poor neglected cock in front of her. Just the sides, _softly_ , occasionally darting her tongue out to taste him. “So how,” she said between kisses, “did it break?”

“Don’t... _ooh_ , do that _again_ ,” he begged when she very gently nibbled at the stiff head.

She disregarded that and went back to sucking him, feeling the mattress move when he fell backwards onto it in rapture. She twisted her tongue around, teasing him lazily as she sucked slower and slower, gleefully licking up all his little drops of bittersweet cum along the way, and Peeves was beginning to whine like she’d hurt him. _Time for phase three_.

She’d pulled herself away again, licking her lips when she saw the string of saliva connecting her mouth and his dick break. “Aw, are you going to come soon?”

He peered down at her defiantly through the lustful haze. “Not _yet_.”

“Good. Then tell me something - did the blades rattle before the glass broke?” She asked, picking up her wand to summon the string of anal beads from her nightstand.

“Don’t think so,” he said, shutting his eyes as if trying to remember it. “I… I never felt anything _like it_ before.”

Dandrane wanted to laugh. He was really just leading himself into these things. “That’s not the first time you’re going to be saying that.”

“Huh…?” His black eyes opened, and fell upon the string of orange beads she held between her fingers.

“I told you’d I had different ways of torturing you, didn’t I?” She teased, pulling his trousers down to his ankles with her other hand. “It’s even in your favorite color. What a coincidence.”

He blushed, but his eyes were glittering with complete excitement as he sat back up partway. “Didn’t take you for an anal gal.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you _wanted_ me to do this,” she teased.

“Maybe I _do_.”

She smirked, spreading his legs, and let out a little whistle at the sight of his anus. It was a dark blue, like the night sky in contrast to his just-before-dawn skin tone. “You look like you’re going to be _tight_.” She pressed a fingertip against it, feeling it taut and puckered against her as he shivered slightly. In the back of her mind she still couldn’t believe he’d specifically asked for this; he must have really liked her fingering him. It almost sent her over the moon. “Good thing this is self-lubricating.”

“Um, what does it _do_?” He asked tentatively. She hadn’t _exactly_ told him what it was for earlier, but he knew damn well where it went.

“Oh, you’ll find out,” she answered as she pushed the first of the small beads in. He let out a small squeal, and she grinned wide as she pushed in the next one. “It just sits in your cute little butt, actually, and you’ll feel it when your ass contracts, but the best part is when I pull it out. And this little sucker should press right against that thick little g-spot of yours, so hopefully your prostate is going to give you _quite_ the ride.”

“I...oh…”

She pushed in another, and decided to lick his aching balls at the same time; normally she wouldn’t, as she didn’t like the act much, but Peeves had no pubic hair to get caught in her teeth, nor the smell of sweat sticking in between folds of skin. He gave a pleasurable hum as she sucked on one of his balls, and she wondered if she’d do this to him even if he was human. He did make some _wonderful_ sounds…

He really was weird. But she supposed that thinking about a more human version of Peeves wouldn’t be very useful - she liked him the way he was anyway.

“There we go,” she muttered as the last bead sank into him with one last twitch. The little plastic hoop at the end of the string dangled at the edge of the bed, and she had half a mind to pull the thing halfway out and put it right back in. She resisted the urge, choosing instead to sit up and look down on him. He looked oddly peaceful for a guy with a raging erection who just had a string of beads shoved up his ass.

“Only thought of getting out,” he said quietly out of the blue, looking up at the ceiling with very purple cheeks.

“What are you, psychic?” Dandrane joked, pushing his erection towards him. “I’m supposed to ask questions, not the get answer out of you before I even open my mouth.”

“Too predictable,” he teased with a smirk. “Just know I broke out within moments of being captured.”

Dandrane frowned. _Undermining me, huh? Not today, boy-o._ “Oh, _really_?” She growled, standing up and grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him up to face her better. “Then tell me something, little man - if you can break things so easily, then why didn’t you just run off when I cuffed you in the first place?”

He grinned, the sultry, dangerous kind that she was rather weak to when it came to him. “Well, where’s the fun in _that_? There you were, all dressed up with no one else to see. ”

She perched one leg up on the mattress, almost as if she were going to climb over him to stand above, and his glance over at her smooth bare leg was far too obvious. She wondered if he had a special interest in hers or if he just had a thing for tall women. “So you wanted to take advantage, eh?” She let his collar go, and he just continued to give that half-lidded smirk like he knew where she was going with this. She shifted her nightgown to lie across her raised leg, the long slit in the dress hiking it up and almost over everything, but she knew from the surprise on his face that he could see what she wanted him to. Seemed he didn’t expect her to be _completely_ naked. “You see this?” She growled, sliding her hand down to her exposed groin and pushing her lower lips apart. She was really wet - her fingers slid against the moist curls down there.

He looked like man being offered a whole pitcher of water after wandering the desert. Desperate, needy, and terribly excited. “Yes,” he managed to say, eyeing her damp fingers as they slid over her clitoral hood.

“You want this?” She asked, tempted a little to just make him watch her masturbate inches from his face. Her fingers were a welcome relief to her aching groin.

He glanced up at her, eyes dark and ecstatic. “ _Yes_.”

Dandrane grabbed a fistful of his hair - nice and soft at the back of his head, where product wasn’t needed - and pushed his head forward until he was a breath’s away from her cunt. “This is _mine._ It’s why I haven’t just cursed you.” He peered up at her, begging silently to just do what she put him there for. “You should show your appreciation.”

It was romantic how he shut his eyes before going ahead with her command, as if savoring the whole experience. His lips touched her open-mouthed, and she squeezed his locks a little. His tongue pushed past her moistened labia to touch her core, and she allowed herself to let out a sigh of pleasure. He groaned, licking deeply from her hole to her clit, and she almost felt like she didn’t want to play anymore. She wanted to just let him eat her alive, handcuffs and interrogation be damned.

She didn’t know how he did it, but every time he went down on her it made her feel like she was bigger than herself, like she wasn’t just some cog in the universe’s unintelligible wheel of God-knew-what. The poltergeist ate her out like it was the greatest thing in the world. It certainly _felt_ like it, with every nerve he touched firing in aroused excitement and magic thrumming through her almost like adrenaline. The orgasm she got from actually fucking him was a bit different than this, since it felt more like a damn good release of pent-up lust and affection expended through the exercise and not this odd feeling of letting everything drift away into his worshipping mouth. She loved both experiences, but with the shit she had to go through today, this was definitely the one she craved right then.

The witch pet Peeves’ hair, muttering vague directions of where to focus and moaning when he hit just the right spots. She felt like she was going to collapse over him like this. She couldn’t, though - his hands were bound and unable to hold her up if her legs turned completely to jelly, so she put more weight on the raised leg and held onto his head with both hands, wand forgotten somewhere.

Oh _God_ , he kept making circles around her clit. It felt hard as a rock, despite how incredibly wet she was. He’d sucked on it for a bit, then sucked on her whole cunt like it was candy. He drove his tongue into her walls, wriggling and prodding for the right spot, pressing so hard against her she couldn’t help but gasp.

Peeves, the little hellion, dipped his tongue out and in one more time, pressing and savoring the feel, and she moaned loud into a sea of white, clutching his head and leaning in like she would really fall.

She hadn’t even realized she’d closed her eyes, too. Dandrane forced herself to stand firm and pull away, knowing she wasn’t capable of much speech right then. “Good boy,” she praised with a lopsided smile, letting his hair drift through her fingers as she let it go.

Peeves had a bright, energetic look to him despite being taken away from her. He hadn’t come yet, given that his erection was still stiff and pointed at the ceiling, so she really wondered why.

“You know, I really wonder about you,” she said, her voice a little hoarse as she sank back down on her knees. “You’re way too good at eating pussy.”

“I _am?”_ He teased, straightening up with pride.

“Yeah,” she muttered before giving a long loving lick to the pulsing vein on the underside of his cock. “If I were to _guess_ ,” she said, pausing to give his head a sucking kiss that made him squeal, “I’d say you were _actually_ eating me.” She looked up at him, tugging the end of the anal beads just a little. “Like traditional sex magic or something, where orgasms are offered up as magical energy.”

Peeves snorted into a giggle, a somewhat darker blush on his face. “ _Could_ be,” he snickered.

Dandrane took as much of him into her mouth as she could, and his little laugh died into a hissing sigh. Now that she thought about it, maybe his outburst years ago was like an orgasm, too. A big burst of magical energy after being pent up for some time. She bobbed her head up and down, working into a rhythm of steadily increasing speed, occasionally pressing her tongue against his shaft or swirling it around his tip.

The thing was, though, that Peeves absorbed and consumed magic through other people’s emotional outbursts… Maybe his grudge against the old caretaker and how he was treated was just fuel for all the outbursts he’d gathered in some span of time. Maybe all of the magic he’d ever taken was still in there, tightly packed into his form. Maybe he used it with every movement of his visible body like she used food for hers. Maybe it was both, and he stored some like people stored extra energy in body fat, but the rest was used every day. It went into muscle and thought and the various inhuman abilities he had…

She pulled herself away. He was going to come soon - it was written on his face, that frantic want for release, as well as the way his cock twitched, as if it was begging her. “Peeves, do you keep magic consciously?”

“W-what?”

She pulled on the end of the beads, popping one out, and he twitched. “Do you _store_ magic inside of you? A lot of it?”

“I-I don’t-”

She wrapped her lips around the base of his cock, sucking at the skin as she pulled out another bead.

“ _Yes!_ ” He shouted. “Yes, I _do_ , okay?! Just...fucking-!”

 _Ah, the sweet tone of begging for release. Always sounds so fucking good on him._ Dandrane smirked as she took his aching dick back in her mouth, sucking faster than before, and she felt him twitch inside her and she knew it was time.

She pulled the beads out, and he gave out a nice, loud moan as he came. The first spurt hit the back of her throat, and she pulled away just in time for the second to hit her lips and part of her nose and chin. It was bittersweet, and she licked it all away, very grateful that she had decided to take time out to perform that complex STD test on the last condom they’d used. He was clean as a whistle, and now that condoms weren’t completely necessary, she had no guilt about swallowing every drop he’d give her. She did just that, making sure to suck up every drop that clung to his softening, spent member.

The witch swallowed and stood, looking down her poltergeist-boyfriend, who sometime during or before he came fell backwards onto the covers. If he had to breathe, she guessed he’d be panting, but for right now he just lay there, content to blink lazily at her in a haze of afterglow.

“That was fun,” he croaked with a smile, sounding like he hardly had any air left to speak with. “Kiss me?”

“You sure? I just swallowed a lot of your spunk,” she teased, leaning over and positioning herself above him. “It’s gonna taste _weird_.”

“Pretty please?” He cooed with a bat of his lashes.

 _You tease,_ she thought, giving in and pressing her lips to his. It was weird to taste her own cum, let alone tasting it on top of his. “Lucky I like you so much.”

“Feeling better?” He asked as she rolled away to lay besides him.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Should be thanking you, I should,” he replied, giving her his trademark grin. “Giving me a show like that…” Peeves looked awfully affectionate as he decided to roll on his own side and face her. “Can you take these off?”

“Oh, fuck - sorry!” Dandrane reached around him and pressed her thumb against the keyhole on the handcuffs, hearing a click as the metal fasteners opened.

“ _Ha_ , all that and I still have my shoes on,” he joked, casting a look down at his legs still dangling over the edge of the bed. Dandrane summoned a tissue from the box on her nightstand for him and figured she’d wait to find her wand. “What happened in the bar, anyway?” He asked, sitting up to finish cleaning himself off. “The whole thing, I mean.”

“Do me, too?” Dandrane asked, spreading her legs and pulling the fabric of her gown up. Her thighs felt incredibly sticky.

The poltergeist eyed her groin, then her face, and playfully huffed. “Lazy,” he muttered, swiping the Kleenex between her folds. Even that felt good, despite how tired and oddly _not_ -tired she felt. It was an odd mix, feeling so relaxed and so awake. “Could’ve just eaten more if you wanted.”

“Are you kidding? If I kept you down there I’d be awake until morning,” she said smarmily, caressing his arm. “You were amazing. Have I told you how awesome you are lately?”

He hitched his pants back up, grinning smugly. “Yeah, but keep saying it.”

Dandrane sat up with him, sliding a hand around his side, admiring the lilac blush that hadn’t yet faded from his cheeks. The darker skin around his eyes made him look a bit spooky, and his pointed ears and the wide, maniacal grin he often wore reminded her he wasn’t human and that she would die long before he would, if he could die at all, but God damn it if she didn’t think he was too fucking cute for his own good. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You’re amazing,” she said softly in his ear. He turned to her, eyes shining with mischief and affection. She leaned in and kissed him properly, softly and reminiscent of a word she didn’t want to use just then. “You’re the best.” Another kiss, a little longer, and he really pressed back into it. “World’s greatest poltergeist,” she said an inch from his lips.

He giggled into the next kiss, deeper and more passionate, their mouths open and tongues greeting each other like old friends.

When they pulled apart, he looked up at her like he was admiring the night sky, and she felt his hand slid over one of hers and caress the bandage he’d put there. Dandrane’s lamp fizzled out, and darkness shrouded comfortably over them both.

“Never told me everything that happened,” he said as they moved to lie properly underneath the covers, shoes and dirty tissues gone.

The witch tossed her arm over him, stroking his arm with her thumb, and told him every detail in the safety of the quiet pile of blankets and pillows, her Auror-hat long removed. He laughed when she told him how she hit the man from the pub and threw him to the floor, but the way he moved closer and grinned at her in the dark said more than words could anyway.

“Knew you had it in you,” he muttered. “I’d ’ve liked to seen it...”

“You’ll see it firsthand if you ever point a weapon at a student again,” she replied, and she didn’t have to open her eyes or be able to see in the dark to know he was grinning just as wide as ever when he replied:

“I don’t doubt it.”

*~*~*~*~*

Peeves lay awake, his back against the old wooden headboard of Dandrane’s four-poster, his head tilted down. He was reading, but a noise from the sleeping woman next to him caught his attention.

Dandrane didn’t often make noise. When she snored, it was soft and sporadic. Sometimes she breathed in more noticeably, when she rolled over in half-sleep, and sometimes she whined during a nightmare. He’d been privileged to be awake once during the worst one – she’d woken, eyes wide, sweating from her scalp to her shoulders, and lay there staring into space for a second before registering that he was watching her. She’d wrapped an arm around his hip and nestled herself against him until he asked what she’d been dreaming. She dreamt of being pushed down the stairs, over the railing of the top of the grand staircase, and fell straight down in the center until she almost hit the floor.

At the time, Peeves was horribly reminded of the day when a previous Defense teacher met the same fate. _That_ one hadn’t gone down all seven stories, just two or three, and was discovered with a pile of parchment scattered around them, like they’d held onto a stack of student’s papers the whole way down. They’d _tripped_ , supposedly. No one knew for sure, and later they chalked it up to the department’s curse. He remembered being disappointed when he found out, both because the newbie wasn’t too bad and because he’d missed seeing the face of whoever made the gruesome discovery.

Now, he watched Dandrane carefully, his black eyes torn away from the smutty book he’d stashed under her mattress on what he deemed ‘his’ side. She rolled over and faced him again, her face calm and her breathing even. Just a normal dream.

 _Silly prof’_ , he thought, the temptation to wake her budding. It wasn’t _very_ early – maybe eight or nine, now. A normal time for other adults to wake on a Sunday. Maybe he should kiss her awake, or prod somewhere. Dandrane looked pretty even then, with her tousled bedhead of pink and the fading bags under her eyes.

No, he shouldn’t do that. She’d mentioned before that fooling around with her while she was unconscious was a strict, hard _no_. He didn’t think a kiss qualified as ‘fooling around’, but she had a point, and he wasn’t about to break one of her bedtime rules. ‘Hard Limits’, she called them. She’d confided in him last night – before their little game – that the reason she hadn’t blown him before was because the taste condoms left in her mouth was a kind of Hard Limit. _“Even the flavored ones make me gag,”_ she had said. Most of her previous boyfriends weren’t happy about that objection, apparently, and it wore them down. They could all go sit on a knife, as far as Peeves was concerned, because missing out on a chicken leg didn’t matter when you had the whole rest of the bird to eat, as Godric Gryffindor would say.  

He shuffled slightly, leaning back into his previous position, sitting above the covers with his shoes on. He often waited underneath them on nights when he couldn’t or didn’t want to sleep, and more often than not he found himself curling around her before she woke, but the close proximity to her body-heat and the thrilling fun of last night kept giving him the urge to masturbate under there today, and his new energy should be conserved. What was once hers was now his, and though it blended in with the rest of him he felt like he ought to preserve it for a while longer.

Or maybe he just felt lazy. Lying next to Dandrane did that. He could sit next to her or lie with her for hours like this, reading her silly novella or listening to her music or just sleeping. He knew that normally he’d be flying around ruining people’s morning by now. But how could he, when he had this fun little book to read?

_Heather watched Valmir carefully across the table, looking at how the light from the single red candle between them flickered in his eyes. Shy but curious, she found. Not disgusted, not scared, not stupefied. She was glad he’d been partnered with her – any of the other office boys wouldn’t do half as well at the grammatical structure for the translation project, in any case. Like him, they might have gotten a kick about being ordered around and thwapped with a flogger, but she doubted any of the other office gophers would like the idea of being penetrated like she’d suggested. Valmir was an excellent submissive so far, but he was still fairly new to everything and she was sure that at the beginning he was interested because he developed a crush on her on day one. This was the big risk, mentioning pegging at the dinner table in a slightly secluded corner of this fancy restaurant. Would he walk, or would he stay? If he said yes, would her heart skip with delight?_

_Her heart beat furiously, as it did last night when they’d cuddled during after-care. She watched him think and arrange his silverware slightly, a blush rising to his beautiful olive-toned cheeks. If she had her way, right now, blood pulsing as he darted his tongue over his sweet lips, she’d be fucking him over the table. The way his eyes met hers said that he’d allow that._

Peeves tried not to giggle – he covered his mouth with his hand, careful not to disturb his snoozing girlfriend. It was funny, reading a kinky romance in the early morning. He wondered if all romance novels were like this, this constant parade of teasing potentials and porn that took up more pages than the plot. It was a thin plot anyway, with Valmir being secretive and ‘starting his life over’ while the heroine Heather found herself being followed by a mysterious stranger. Peeves guessed right away that Valmir had witnessed a murder or something and that the criminal he was hiding from was stalking Heather. Still, he didn’t want to ruin the ending, so he kept reading through. He’d found some of the sex dull to read, weirdly enough, but he wasn’t sure if it was because he couldn’t identify with either of the characters enough to care or if the writer was just bad.

So far, the only thing that really piqued his interest in those scenes (outside of the new topic of pegging, which he was curious about) was reading what it was like for Heather to be penetrated. He wondered if Dandrane identified with the weird, poetic way they described all the stimulation. The only thing he could see the two had in common was the calculating way they seemed to look at things. Everything else was different…except maybe the constant wearing of suits. If Peeves hadn’t seen the book’s publishing year as 2002, he’d wonder if it was where she got the idea.

There was another noise, a rapping on wood, and Peeves tilted his head to listen, attention now focused on it. Someone was outside, knocking politely on Dandrane’s office door.

The poltergeist looked down at the sleeping woman, so calm and quiet, and decided he’d poke his head out to mess with whoever it was for a bit of fun.

He squished the book back underneath the mattress, checked that he was buttoned everywhere and Dandrane hadn’t stirred, and flew out into the office, bypassing the bedroom door with a thought. His hat was right where he left it, on the white chair by the door; it felt good to feel the light weight back on his head. Peeves smirked, flicking one of the little working bells, and ducked his head through the front door.

Professor McGonagall’s eyes widened behind her spectacles and she almost jumped back. That response _never_ got old.

“ _Weeellll_ , if it isn’t our Head Kitty-Cat! Here to pay little Phlegmy a visit, are you?” He grinned, feeling the small bits of magic hang in the air. He’d take it and he’d waste it.

Her eyes hardened and her flat mouth stretched a little tighter. “Peeves, what on _Earth_ are you doing in Professor Flemming’s office?”

“Just fooling around, your Headship,” he said cheerily, knowing it wasn’t a real lie. After all, he wasn’t doing his ‘duty’ and he did his fair share of fooling around with Dandrane last night. “The usual. And you?”

She always was rather honest with him, even if she _was_ uptight. They’d gotten on better since the war. Since Umbridge, really. “I’m here to escort the Professor to my office for a chat.” _Right_ , Peeves thought, _and Myrtle’s spots are disappearing nicely_. “I take it she’s asleep?” She asked, staring hard down at him. “Her statue is most unhelpful.”

“ _Isn’t_ it?” He cast a look down at the shii, which was sleeping as calmly as its mistress. He wondered why Dandrane even bothered with it if it kept falling asleep. He knew she heard things through the matching lion on the other side of the door, so maybe that had something to do with it. “Useless thing. I’ll tell you what, O-Mistress-of-Heads, I’ll _wake_ her for you,” he grinned wide, sinking back through the door before the elder witch could say anything more.

Peeves slammed the bedroom door open, just in case the Headmistress could hear. Dandrane stirred, mumbling something, and he flew over to her and shook her shoulder. “Danny, hey, Danny!” He tried to keep his voice even, but it was a little difficult when he was so excited. He knew she wouldn’t be fired for such a little thing like punching a guy in the local pub, so she was just going to be intimidated for a while in the Headmaster’s office. Probably get a ‘don’t do it again’ speech. He’d seen lesser professors get away with a lot more. He wanted to follow her out and listen in on the whole thing.

Dandrane stirred, blinking up at him with an annoyed grimace. “I’m up, I’m up, _what is it_?”

“McGonagall wants you,” he said normally. “Want a suit?” he asked a lot quieter.

Her eyes widened a fraction, then blinked as she rubbed her face. “Please.”

It was a rush, throwing one of her suits (dark purple) at her from the wardrobe one piece at a time as she rushed to put on new underwear and clean herself up at the same time. He paused to watch her slip on a neon-blue thong, distracted by how good she looked in it and how much he’d give to just watch her dress and undress right then. _Not now, Peevesy. Headship’s at the door_. He tied her tie (orange, because it went with his pretty well) over him first and then tossed it at her when she’d buttoned the green dress-shirt. She didn’t bother with makeup, just combed her hair over to the side in a little wave like she did sometimes, swishing mouthwash and putting her glasses on. She’d shoved on her plain black heels and he wondered if she wasn’t freezing in just a pantsuit and no socks. Then again, she walked across the floor barefoot in the mornings and slept in only shirts. Maybe those eight years in Canadian winters had hardened her.

Dandrane snorted when she looked back in the bathroom mirror one last time, a smile tugging firmly at the corner of her mouth. “I feel a bit like the Joker,” she said, shaking her head a little as she shoved her wand up her sleeve. “Thanks, babe,” she added genuinely, stroking his cheek with her fingers.

Right then, he would’ve told McGonagall to shove off if Dandrane had asked. But of course she didn’t.

Instead, he listened from the bedroom as the pink-haired professor answered the door. She gave an excuse for Peeves, saying he’d just woken her loudly and run. The Headmistress was perfectly frank and asked to talk in her office, upstairs, _now_ , and Dandrane followed, her face blank from where Peeves glimpsed it until the door shut quietly behind them.

He waited a minute, thinking. They were going up to McGonagall’s office. They might talk on the way there. He didn’t want to miss that, and he didn’t want Dandrane to go alone… He’d follow and go invisible when he got close enough.

Peeves drifted into the hallway, noticing that the shii statue was awake and glancing over at him. Maybe it was more of a guard dog, making sure no one could get in as long as Dandrane was out and taking messages. The other one kept open-mouthed and still so Dandrane could hear what was going on in the hall if she needed to. He’d ask later, but that answer felt like it fit the best.

He hadn’t gotten far when he noticed another presence in the hall with him. A student.

A girl, with long dark brown hair and a worried expression.

Francine Tarquin.

He didn’t hate the kid. How could he, when that love potion incident was what caused him and Dandrane to tear down some walls and get together? He remembered that first kiss like it happened moments ago. Still, the kid was worthy of heckling. Every kid was.

“Well, well, well, out for a wee stroll, Franky?” He asked, loving the way she jerked back and went pink in the face. Well, pinker. She looked like she was in a hurry.

“I don’t have time for you, Peeves!” She said, breaking into a run. She was heading back to Dandrane’s office.

He slid in front of her, and she came to a quick stop. “Running late, hmm? Meeting more strange men?” He grinned evilly at her, watching her flinch. “Going to down one and talk about your _feelings_?”

“How did-“

“Hear lots of things when lots of people are about.”

“Peeves, please, get out of my way, this is _important_ -“

She might have said please, but he’d be damned if he’d let her go when she was so close to blowing up. “ _Important_! Ooh, look at little Franky, heading someplace _important_! What’s so important about the second floor, Franky? Going to go cry in Myrtle’s toilet?”

“You-” She was close to anger, so, _so_ close. But she breathed out. “Look – have you seen Professor McGonagall come down here?”

That was unexpected. He narrowed his eyes. “Gone upstairs with our little Defense professie.”

“Bollocks,” Francine muttered, her face paling, and she whirled around and ran. Peeves followed.

“Need the Head, eh? What _for_?”

“Wh-stop _following_ me!” She said, trying to go faster.

“ _No_ ,” he said plainly, growing annoyed, and hovered in front of her so she would stop. Obviously Francine wanted to talk about last night’s little pub brawl with the Headmistress, and he didn’t know if would be good or bad for Dandrane. “What’s Franky up to? Going to convince the Mistress that you can do what you want? Going to throw your Defense professor under the rug so you can sneak back out from underneath?” He grinned at her somewhat, knowing that implying cowardice in most Gryffindors was a key in getting them riled up. Francine was no different, but she was shy and the insult stung worse, knowing she was in the house of bravery and not living up to it – she bristled.

“Why do _you_ care?” She asked, growing red in the face and frowning at him. His gut told him she wasn’t going to shove Dandrane into the fire. Not with _that_ look. She was there for something else.

“Come on, Franky, I _know_ our Headship pulled Phlegmy away to lecture her about her little fight. _You_ know it, too. Want to see it just as much as you, I expect,” he said patronizingly. “Can’t get in the door without a password – but _you_ can.”

He was _technically_ fibbing. He could go in and out of the Headmaster’s office without much of a fuss, over the wall or through the floor or whatever. But he wasn’t going to let the kid waltz in there and ruin things, and it was true that he didn’t know the password if he wanted to get in through the door anyway. Really, outside of having a front-row seat to see the inevitable conversation, he wanted to delay the kid overhearing Dandrane’s inevitable humiliation as much as possible. She was probably going over the whole story again, and he knew Francine hadn’t seen any of the resulting scuffle after she ran off.

“What, you want to me to bring you in _with_ me? Are you _mad_? McGonagall will have my hide!”

Peeves rolled his eyes. _Kids_. “I’ll just slip up the stairs invisible, no one would know I was even _there_. Do you want to _go_ or not?”

He saw her thinking. She wasn’t the kind to whip out her wand when someone was troubling her, so he didn’t have to worry about that. She bit her lower lip, rolling the decision over for a moment, her face red. “Fine! Just – just keep quiet!”

The poltergeist grinned and let her pass, flying after her running pace. He didn’t know how much time had passed. Maybe Dandrane had already explained the whole story in a slightly abridged version of the one she told him last night. Maybe she was in the middle of it, or maybe she hadn’t even begun yet.

By the time they reached Professor McGonagall’s office, Francine was breathing heavier. She really wasn’t used to exercise, apparently, despite her average physique. Peeves tapped his foot in the air in impatience as she fumbled for the password, nervous and talking to herself under her breath.

“Chrysanthemum? Er – Hydrangea? Heather? Shite, it was _some_ stupid flower – _think_ , Francine… It was on her desk… Lily? Er – _Cala_ Lily?”

The gargoyle jumped aside, giving them pass into the open hole for the winding staircase. Francine stepped on it, and it started to move her up. Peeves remembered the ‘escalator’ back at the train station and wondered why Francine was content to stand there and wait rather than move ahead like the muggles who were afraid to miss their train.

Peeves sure as hell wasn’t one to stand still. He phased into invisibility and flew up the stairs and then slowly shifted through the double-doors that lead to the Headmaster’s office, knowing that if he charged through then they’d rattle.

Dandrane was sitting straight with her ankles crossed, her glasses still on, and her hands folded politely in her lap. McGonagall was sitting across from her in the high-backed chair, spectacles sitting square on her nose and examining the teacher with the piercing stare she reserved for students. Peeves didn’t have to look up to know every portrait was watching the pair.

“I see,” the Headmistress said, “Have you ever met Brandy before?”

“No, ma’am. That was the first time I’d ever seen him. To be honest, I hope I don’t see him again.” Dandrane was talking formally, the perfect picture of a polite lady. Or as polite as she could muster.

“He graduated three years ago – he quit advanced Transfiguration in his sixth year. His sister was killed in the war.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Peeves doubted very much that she was _too_ sorry. Sorry for the dead kid, maybe, but not for her sleezy brother.

“I knew him fairly well, since he was in this office several times. You’re _quite_ sure he was making advances on the young lady?”

Dandrane’s jaw stiffened. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve seen my fair share of perverts.”

“ _Seeing_ is not the same as _knowing_ ,” McGonagall said wisely.

“I told you everything that happened, ma’am. An innocent man wouldn’t punch first.”

The Headmistress sighed, leaning back in her chair a little. “Madame Rosemerta sent me a note this morning – you’re not banned from The Three Broomsticks, but I wouldn’t advise fighting anyone else in there. Or elsewhere, for that matter. I won’t have my staff going around unnecessarily dueling people, let alone getting into low-brow muggle brawls.”

Francine had finally knocked on the door, a couple of quick raps.

“Come in.”

Dandrane turned to see who it was, and Francine hurried in, the door closing itself gently behind her.

“I’m sorry, Professor, I just had to-“

“I’m conversing with Professor Flemming at the moment, Tarquin.”

“I know, Professor, but please, you-you can’t fire her!” She blurted out, hurrying towards the desk. “I _know_ I didn’t see it, but she was only -”

“Tarquin,” the Headmistress commanded, “take a seat.”

Another comfortable chair appeared next to Dandrane’s, and the student gave the Defense professor a quick look as she took her seat, red as a tomato.

Professor McGonagall looked over her spectacles at the young lady. “Professor Flemming told me a man by the name of ‘Brandy’ was conversing with you at The Three Broomsticks. Is this true?”

“Yes, but-”

“And then she told you to leave for the school gate?”

“Yes,” Francine said, realizing she wasn’t going to get a word of her own defense in.

“What did you and Mr. Brandy talk about?”

The girl blinked, looking more nervous than before, and started looking down at her fingers, fiddling with them. “He, um… We talked about Valentine’s Day.”

“And?”

“We…we just sort of _talked_. He said I looked lonely, and I told him about…my, er, _crush_ , and he listened. He said he know how I felt and offered to show me around the village, to make me feel better, and I, er, didn’t really know what to do. And then the Professor stepped in.”

“Did Brandy make you uncomfortable?” The Headmistress asked, watching her student like a hawk.

“Not at first,” she said, rubbing her arm and looking like she was feeling guilty. “He was…nice. He asked me about myself, and I said it was my O.W.L. year and… I didn’t feel weird until he asked me to go around town with him. Maybe a little when he said I looked like his first girlfriend, I don’t – I don’t know. But everyone said he hit Professor Flemming first, and I know she was just trying to-”

“ _Everyone_?” The elder witch asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Well, everyone from the pub was talking about it on the way up,” she mumbled.

“I see. Miss Tarquin, what made you think I was going to fire Professor Flemming?”

Dandrane shifted in her seat, staring hard at the Headmistress as the kid blinked and blushed harder.

“People were talking… And, I mean, I didn’t see it myself, I don’t know how badly he was hurt, but I know Professor Flemming can hit pretty hard, and some versions made it sound kind of, er, _bloody_.”

Dandrane covered up a chortle by wiping her nose.

“Well, Tarquin, you’ll be pleased to know that Professor Flemming is staying for the time being.” The Headmistress gave a sharp look at the younger professor. “Provided she prepares you all for your exams properly rather than getting into fistfights.”

“Oh, don’t worry, they’re right on track for O.W.L.s,” Dandrane said, a smile on the corner of her mouth.

“I certainly hope so. This is the first school year we’ve had to change Defense professors in a while,” she said, alluding to the many years of one-a-year Defense professors. “I’d like to keep the position closed as long as possible.”

Something passed over Dandrane’s face. Hope, maybe? Peeves wondered if the Headmistress was hinting that Bartlett’s temporary leave wouldn’t be so temporary. It was the first time a professor had gone on an excursion in years, after all, and they’d only had five years of steady staff…

Or maybe McGonagall was saying that Dandrane was the temporary one, the odd one out. Like hell she was. Peeves would make sure Bartlett wouldn’t want to stay the moment he stepped foot back in the castle, as long as Dandrane had a chance at staying. Something burned when he thought of her leaving for good and Bartlett sitting in her chair and occupying her space. Something awful.

“You may go,” Professor McGonagall said, leaning back in her chair. Francine stood, shuffling away slowly, waiting for the Professor to follow, no doubt. “Remember what I said, Flemming.”

“Of course,” she said with a little bow.

They swept away, down the stairs, and Francine stopped the pink-haired professor at the bottom.

“Professor, I… Thank you. For saving me back there.”

Dandrane smiled, putting her hands in her pockets as her shoulders sagged. “Don’t mention it. I’d be a pretty shitty teacher if I let a creep like that hang around one of my students. Besides, even if I wasn’t your teacher or anything, girls have to look out for one another in situations like that. You don’t leave another girl behind. I might not be here if someone didn’t do the same for me,” she said, sounding somewhat reminiscent. Peeves had heard that tone before, when she was telling stories of her home or her friends, and he wondered if she’d ever tell him that story. “Besides, I haven’t seen any love-struck boys following you around like dogs, so I know you learned your lesson.”

Francine blushed, but looked quite like she understood as they parted ways.

Dandrane turned to him just as he floated next to her. “How long have you been there?”

Peeves popped back into view, grinning at her and batting his lashes, keeping his voice lower in case Francine or someone could hear down the hall. “Long enough to know you got off. How’d you know I was here?”

She grinned, chuckling a little to herself and leaning towards him. There were no eyes around to see, no portraits or ghosts or children to witness them together. He felt Dandrane’s heat radiate in the moment’s closeness and was reminded of how warm it was under the covers with her.

“I could smell my perfume on your clothes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I noticed I’ve gotten a couple more new readers!! Hello to you, darlings! Nice to have you join our spooky table, where I won’t shut up about Peeves and am trying so hard to keep the Slow Burn for as long as possible while fleshing out both my fictional children. They still have plenty to learn about each other! I hope you'll stay for the duration of the ride! (Also, sorry for the tardiness, I was working on the second half of this chapter during the past week. McGonagall's hard to write... I hope she came out okay.)
> 
> Regarding last chapter - hahaha, you know how people make jokes about Harry/a muggleborn/anyone pulling out a gun and just shooting voldemort to get rid of him? So...wouldn’t the ultimate version of that...be *Peeves* pulling the gun on Voldemort?! Alternate timeline where Voldy wins? Not while Peeves is around, dickwads!!! Catch that MOFO poltergeist throwing plants at your fucking heads to kill you, think he won’t pull a fucking gun out if given the chance?!? Pop pop, bitches!! Oh MAN does that idea tickle my funny bone!! Though really...I’d be interested in what would’ve happened if Peeves stole weapons/a dead person’s wand and used it in battle instead?? I mean, he’s a great offensive tool for the castle (and just in general, HI-YOOO) so it should be natural that he could do a lot more in the Final Battle than just drop deadly plants from above. When reading A Cursed Child, as soon as they traveled to the first Alt. Timeline, I was wondering where the fuck Peeves was (I mean, I wondered that through the whole play, but still). Would he let the school get that bad, when he’s seen violent headmasters and kids being tortured just for breaking rules before (plus, hey, more distressed magic everywhere)?? Or would he do something about it, feeling that it went against the Founder’s principles??? After all, I sometimes think he just...lets people run the place out of necessity and the company/food supply. If he was *really* upset with how it was being run, I feel he might do something about it… 
> 
> That’s all for Valentine’s, so join us next time, when we’ll be back to [probably] More Peeves Shenanigans. I don’t know when that will be, actually, considering the upcoming 2 month's holidays. My muse struggles with working during the holidays… I mean, I’m sure I’ll have something in December, but at this point it’s a big “?????”. I’ll try to update you on my progress in my Profile like usual! In the meantime, how about giving me an early birthday gift by ways of commenting? I love and appreciate all your guys’ kudos (seriously, you guys are all fantastic, ilu so much), but I’d love to hear your thoughts! What you like, what you don’t like, what you’re expecting, what you’re hoping for - it’s all good! 
> 
> So until next time, Happy Halloween! Pet your pet(s) ominously by the fireplace or a flickering candle in front of a window! Read a scary story in almost total darkness and think about how the shadows around you could house That Thing! Watch a horror movie and stay awake for hours in the resulting paranoia of Something being in your house! Hell, become the thing that haunts your own house! Why wait for the spirits to knock on your pipes and open cabinets at random and wander the halls in the middle of the night when you could do it yourself, but with the addition of crunching on snacks the whole time? Just don’t invite the poltergeist in. He’ll break your glassware, eat all your candy, and move your furniture when you aren’t looking. He might even steal your jack-o-lantern so the rest of the ghoulies and ghosties can get in...


	22. Familiar Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned, there's some talk about acrophobia in here.
> 
> Happy Holidays, readers! Here’s to you!!! ✧˖°ˈ·*ε-(๑˃́ε˂̀๑ )

Coldness crept throughout the castle like a thief. It was fitting how no matter how many windows were sealed and how many fires were going, it kept sneaking in to lurk unpleasantly in every crevice. Teachers, staff, and students all complained amongst themselves, hoping for an early spring.

Dandrane had called it “lousy smarch weather” with a little laugh, but Peeves had no idea what the joke was there. (The most he could figure was “shitty March”, but why have “lousy” in front of it…?) He did learn of an odd custom from her, though, during that conversation – apparently, a western groundhog predicted a late arrival for spring all the way back in February. That meant a long winter for all of them – and so far, there was no sign of anything warming up, so Peeves figured there must be something of merit to it…

Despite it being the middle of the day, Dandrane was up and around the castle during her break, just seeming to wander around. Peeves had run into her once already, and thankfully there had been nothing around to see them exchange a knowing smile and a snippet of friendly conversation before they knew they had to move.

But today seemed like just one of those days where Peeves was bound to run into people. First it was Dandrane, then then the Fat Friar, and now Peeves had literally flown through someone he hadn’t seen in several years:  Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore.

“Oh, I beg your pard-” The ghost started, backing away slightly before his eyes lit up in recognition. “Peeves the Poltergeist!” He said with a boisterous laugh that reminded Peeves too much of Godric. “What a surprise! Sorry about the run-in, old boy, I guess my head’s not quite on right today!”

“I thought your head was _never_ on, Podmore,” Peeves jested. He might’ve been on Nick’s side for some things, but it was difficult not to like Sir Podmore, especially since he constantly poked fun at his own death. They weren’t exactly _friends_ , considering Peeves liked to spook the horse that trotted alongside the ghost all the time - particularly during one of Podmore’s games - but they were on decent talking terms, at least. “Here to see Nicky, are you?”

“Oh, yes, but not on Hunt business. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d see what was going on in the old homestead,” he said with a charming smile from the crook of his elbow. “He was telling me you had a new teacher this year, something about what’s-his-name going on an excursion or some such nonsense,” he chuffed with a roll of his eyes.

Peeves couldn’t help but smirk. “Nicky’s right, though, Pod. For the best, if you ask me – new girl’s holding her own better that Bartlett.”

“I’d hope so,” a voice said behind him. Peeves turned, genuinely surprised to see Dandrane walking up to him from the side. It was like they were on a stage and Dandrane had been waiting in the wings for her cue. “From what I’ve-”

She paused, a smile frozen on her face as she seemed to stare at the decapitated ghost standing by the dead horse. Peeves felt a shift in the atmosphere, like heat brushed him.

“-heard,” she finished stiffly. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

The ghost made a point to put his head back on his shoulders and hold it there while he gave a polite bow. “Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore, at your service, my lady.”

Peeves had the feeling she was staring holes into the specter, and he felt a twinge of jealousy. What was so special about a decapitated ghost?

“Professor Dandrane Flemming. I’m sorry, I’m kind of surprised… I don’t believe Peeves ever mentioned you.”

“I’d be surprised if he did! Peeves doesn’t normally talk well about people in polite conversation,” he said with a laugh, giving the poltergeist an odd little look. Like he was searching for some kind of sign… “But I’m the proud leader of the Headless Hunt, a travelling group-”

Peeves didn’t like where this was going. “She knows what the Hunt is, Pod.”

“Ah, that’s a lovely surprise! Not many of the living know of us,” the ghost beamed proudly at the witch.

“You have a beautiful horse,” Dandrane commented, leaving the distinct feeling that she wanted to say a lot more.

“Why thank you,” Sir Podmore said politely, reaching up to stroke the horse’s silvery transparent mane. Ghosts couldn’t really touch each other, but it did seem to have an impact of some kind, because the horse gave out a friendly sort of snort. “Nightingale died on the battlefield with me. I’m glad she didn’t suffer quite the same fate - it would be very difficult to ride a horse without its head,” he japed with a nostalgic sort of look in his grey eyes.

“Forgive me for asking,” Dandrane said a little too quickly to be casual, “but has she been with you since you came back? To ‘life’, I mean.”

The ghost blinked, his friendly expression turning to something more curious. “I believe so… She was the first thing I saw when I realized I wasn’t entirely passed on…”

“Is she your familiar?”

“I’m not quite sure… She is now, I suppose,” the ghost said thoughtfully, patting the horse’s side. “But true familiars are very rare, aren’t they? And a great deal of the Headless Hunt have horses. We wouldn’t be able to play Headless Polo as efficiently without them,” Sir Podmore added with a light laugh.

Peeves eyed Dandrane. The witch folded her arms, and he figured she was thinking quickly, but the way she held herself… He felt like there was a pressure building in there. Her hands clenched around her arms like manacles and he had no doubt the rest of her was just as tense. “Yes… I suppose that’s true… Do you have some free time, Sir Podmore?”

“All the free time in the world, my lady,” he joked. “No fear, I just came by for a spot of visiting, being in the region and all that.”

“Would you mind if I asked you a few more questions? It’d be a great help to me.”

“Oh, well, I’d be delighted, of course.”

“My classroom is on the first floor, with a dragon skeleton hanging from the ceiling. Would you mind dropping by there in a bit? I need to have a chat with Peeves first,” she said, looking pointedly at the poltergeist with what was probably an attempt at a charming smile. “It won’t be too long.”

Peeves raised a brow, not quite following. What on Earth would she have to talk to him about?

“Don’t make trouble for her, old boy,” Sir Podmore teased, mounting his horse. “I’d like to see you still in one piece before I leave!” The horse took off in a trot of silent strides, and Peeves watched the noble ghost move his head from one arm to another.

“Shall we?” Dandrane asked, putting a hand on his back to steer him down the hall in the opposite direction. It was a short walk - she peeked inside the nearest empty room and steered him in.

It was a dustier, darker classroom than some of the others, as it didn’t face towards the sun. Peeves was still confused on what Dandrane wanted to talk to him about, but he had a feeling that it wasn’t something good.

“So,” Dandrane said sternly, folding her glasses and sliding them into her breast pocket, “Podmore’s a member of the Headless Hunt, huh? You never mentioned him to me,” the witch said in an accusatory tone.

“Why would I? He’s just a normal guy.”

“ _Normal_?” She glared, showing a hint of her teeth. “A headless guy rides around on an undead horse, and you think that’s _normal_?”

Peeves didn’t like her tone at all. He glared back, being uncomfortably reminded of a student being caught in a lie. “ _Yes_ ,” he stressed, crossing his arms. “They’ve been around for _centuries_. What’s the big deal?”

“And that fact just _happened_ to slip your mind when you told me about the Hunt, huh?”

“That…” He paused, feeling like he was running backwards as the small memory resurfaced. “That was _months_ ago!”

“Yeah, exactly! You’ve had _months_ to tell me that there were fucking _horse ghosts_ , Peeves!” She yelled, her eyes wild. “I’ve been scraping the bottom barrels of crap people have written for _years_ and I’ve NEVER come across that little tidbit! And you’ve known since you MET me!” Her face had gotten rather red. Magic swirled like a cloud of dust in the air. “For fuck’s sake, you _know_ what I’m researching!”

Peeves felt his temper rise, and his heart squeezed in the worst way. He almost felt like he was choking somehow. “How was I supposed to know what you didn’t know?! You expect me to _read your_ _mind_?!”

“I expect you to _think_!” She exclaimed, her hands motioning towards him. “Jesus, Peeves – you said you’d _help_ me!”

“I’ve BEEN helping you!” He pointed out, jabbing a finger at her. “’S not my fault you’re so obsessed with your theories that you don’t ask the right bloody questions!”

“Oh, I get it,” she growled, her blue eyes like dark icicles piercing his heart. “This is a _game_ to you. ‘Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies’…”

“What the hell is _wrong_ with you?!” Peeves was close to her face, nose-to-nose. “You think I play _games_ like _you_?”

She winced, looking almost like she was going to cry, and swept out of the room with a shameful grimace before he could say another word.

He found himself staring at the open door, his face too hot and his fists shaking, hating how spiteful he’d sounded and the awful shuddering squirm in his chest.

He thought he might be able to brush it off. He tried to wander like usual, but he kept replaying the conversation over and over and over, the feeling in his ribs growing worse. He shifted through walls and floors aimlessly until he found himself up on the Astronomy tower, with all the telescopes pointed in every which way. He didn’t like being there at night very much, considering who liked to wander the base of the tower, but in the day it was nice. He had the perfect view of all the grounds and the sweeping forest that surrounded the castle, so dark and huge it made him feel like he was in the middle of the Earth itself.

Peeves perched on the highest point of the tower, choosing to actually sit and make an impression in the snow. It seeped through him, but the freezing ice was…grounding, in a way. He felt real. _Alive_. Even though he knew he probably technically wasn’t.

He perched his head in his hand, leaning on his elbow and feeling it dig into his kneecap. He felt like something noisy was running around in his head…

How dare she accuse him of keeping secrets he didn’t know were secrets?!

Why _didn’t_ he think to tell her before? He’d read her notes, he saw the blurb on the Hunt she’d written and the questions she had posed…

Why did she talk to him like that, like she was so hurt by this little insignificant detail?!

Why did he talk to _her_ like that? He hadn’t felt like she was playing around with him in months… Not since she told him how she felt.

It was his stupid brain, that’s what. It latched onto certain things and didn’t let go, be it grudges or nuggets of information or memories. It liked seeing her squirm as she searched for what she was looking for. It liked seeing the way her eyes lit up when she put pieces together. It liked how she took such an interest in him, how she sometimes got that look in her eyes like she was trying to pick a lock…

He swept his belled hat off his head, looking out into the Black Forest, so vast and full of life, and yet on the surface seeming so empty. He flicked one of the working bells, hearing the tinny jingle ring a little louder out in the quiet air.

Peeves didn’t feel like the king of the castle right then. More like the guilt-ridden confidant to the court.

She was a _little_ right, after all. He was playing a game with her. He was the double-crosser, playing the spy when he was giving everything he could to Dandrane on a silver platter, only when he chose to open the lid, but even then he didn’t know everything underneath it. He didn’t want to stay angry with her. It meant staying away from her, and his chest hurt when he thought about that.

Maybe…maybe that’s what _love_ was like. Those books of hers certainly had a habit of showing the protagonist feeling lonely without their partner, even if it was just for a short while. They also had plenty of arguments… Sometimes they were resolved by a hearty round of sex in the middle of the couple’s fight, sure, but Peeves didn’t think that would work even if he had the resolve to have tried it. Usually an apology was what fixed these kind of scenarios, both fictional and real. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had a millennia of seeing people argue, after all.

Something in him hardened. He’d talk to her again. Say he was sorry, listen to whatever she had to say, but make her see _sense_ about the whole thing.

Hat back in its rightful place, Peeves stood, brushing the snow from his clothes, and was about to march – er, _float_ – down there when he heard the trapdoor to the tower open.

Two six years, a matching green and red pair, were holding hands and talking quietly amongst themselves about privacy, completely unaware of the poltergeist standing behind them by a row of telescopes.

Peeves grinned wickedly, stooping to scoop snow into a tightly-packed ball, and figured Dandrane could wait for a _little_ while.

*~*~*~*~*

Peeves really wasn’t sure how he lost so much of the day. He’d gotten distracted, he supposed, first by the pair of six-years, then by a little group of first-years, and then Filch, who was already stomping up a storm because of students tracking in muck and clumps of snow. The sun was going to set soon, and Peeves knew he had only a small window of time to talk to Dandrane.

She wasn’t in her office, strangely enough. She was still down in her classroom, writing with her head in her hand like she was doing complicated mathematics. He stood in the doorway, feeling like he was a mile away with all the desks in between them, and knocked rather than barged in. Walking felt right, too, somehow. Like it made him seem more…not poltergeisty. On her level.

“Come in,” she said with a tired voice, not even bothering to look up.

He walked past desks, not looking at anything but the witch sitting with her head still lowered, her glasses sitting on the top of her head amongst spikes of bright pink. The candlelight reflected in her eyes perfectly, adding a glow to her face even in her unhappy state…

Peeves smacked into an askew chair and swore loudly, kicking the offending chair away to smack into another, well aware that he’d ruined his entrance. By the time he looked back up, Dandrane was staring at him. She clearly hadn’t expected him. “Er…sorry.”

“It’s just a chair,” she said softly, her shoulders sagging slightly.

“No, er, not…not just for that,” he stumbled over words, making his way towards the desk, focusing on the space in-between the floor and her face. It was strange to hear his footsteps, echoing on stone like light patters. He hadn’t heard that sound in a long time. “About earlier.” He looked at her squarely in the eye, hoping to drive the message home, and found his gaze dropping to the top of her desk, unable to bear looking at her when he felt so… _exposed_. “I’m sorry. For…what I said.”

His throat tightened as she looked concerned at him for a beat, then gave a single _heh_ and leaned back, choosing to stare at her papers instead with a look of pity. “I haven’t done anything to deserve that,” she said. “ _I’m_ the one who should be apologizing, here.” Dandrane stood, the legs of her chair squealing in protest, and he gravitated towards her like a magnet. “I said some really stupid things to you.” The witch pushed her chair back in, keeping her hand on the back of it. “I... I know you’ve got a memory a hundred yards long.” She kept staring down at the chair, at the desk, just down at something Peeves couldn’t see. “I know that even if I want you to talk, I know it’s your own choice to… And I don’t know how detailed that memory bank of yours is, either,” she said, finally glancing up at him with her lips in the tiniest of smiles for a second, before disappearing into something disappointed. “You didn’t deserve any of the crap I spewed at you back there.”

“Apology accepted,” Peeves said with a small affectionate grin of his own.

“I… I didn’t even say the word _sorry_ ,” she said with a disbelieving wince.

“You just did,” he joked, folding his arms and leaning back on nothing. “Really, Danny, that’s apology enough. Don’t need you to _grovel_.” Though… The _idea_ of that wasn’t bad. He certainly hadn’t seen that expression on her before… “Yet.”

She blinked, shoulders sagging further, and turned to look out of the window nearest the desk. “Well… Still, I’m sorry.”

Peeves floated closer, sitting on the very edge of her desk and watching her face. It was that awful look she had back upstairs, when she was talking to him after her little breakdown back in December. Like she was kicking herself in the gut while she was down and already bruised purple. “So, any idea what’s got you so riled up?” He asked steadily, keeping his eyes on her.

“…I know it’s no excuse for what I said,” she started, her tongue darting out slightly to moisten her lips, “but I know exactly what it is. It’s this _place_ ,” she said, furrowing her brows slightly. “I feel like… Like I’m stuck in a _cage_ , in here.” The muscles in her hands had tightened on her crossed arms. “I’ve been trying to deal with it, you know – go visit people here, go to the village now and then, make sure I’m always _thinking_ of something… Hell, having sex with you has been a great help,” she said with an affectionate glance his way. “Gets the energy out, keeps me happy and on my toes for a while… But it’s not a permanent solution.”

Peeves felt a stab in his chest, and he wondered if this was what a punctured balloon felt like. “…you don’t like it here?”

“I didn’t say that,” she countered, clutching her arms harder. Her gaze grew soft. “I like it here. It’s not every day I get to teach so many smarties in a fantasy castle,” she added with a light laugh; the smile only lasted a moment. “I just want a change of scenery every once in a while. Go for a drive, see a city, eat something different, or…or _something_. I’d kill a _manticore_ if it meant I got to use a television for half an hour,” she grumbled, her lip curling to reveal a section of teeth with a canine.

“Why don’t you just leave for a few hours, then?” Peeves asked, raising an eyebrow. “We did that before. Could apparate around, once you got to the edge of Hogsmeade…”

“Because I _can’t!”_  Dandrane's eyes were wide and shining with hurt. “It’s not like last time, and I can’t just fake out whenever I want to because I’m _bored_. What if something happened here? What if a kid needed me?”

 _Didn’t stop you before_ , the poltergeist thought to himself. Then again, she’d faked sick on a Quidditch match day, when everyone would be down at the pitch, with little opportunity for disaster.

“It wouldn’t be a problem if you guys just had phones,” she said, growing more agitated. “All my problems would be solved… But nooo, you guys don’t want to touch _muggle tech,”_ she mocked, rolling her eyes. “I wouldn’t mind pulling a disappearing act if I knew I could be reached wherever. But even then, I can’t just pop back into the castle like I never left. Time could be of the essence, in some cases…”

“If you want me to be your chauffeur, all you have to do is ask,” he nudged, elbowing her arm playfully. The whole phone-call-away thing was a problem, considering not every building had fireplaces (he was surprised that they weren’t as nearly as common as they used to be), but she _might_ be able to figure out something for that.

Dandrane raised a perfectly-shaped brow, confusion written all over her face. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on, don’t act like you don’t remember,” Peeves laughed for a moment, but it died when she looked even more puzzled. “You know - New Years?”

“Um…” She glanced away shyly, a pink tinge growing on her cheeks. “I remember writing down stuff for the Shack with you, but, uh… I think I drank too much.”

His chest _ached_ now. “Don’t remember the fireworks? Launching ‘em off the Astronomy Tower?”

“A _little_.” Dandrane pushed her index finger and thumb close together for emphasis. “The golden dragon was impressive… But that’s about it.” The witch reached for her drawer and pulled out a piece of bubblegum from the enormous half-empty bag. She hadn’t been eating it as much lately, and tended to spit it out when he dropped by. Maybe it was because she tended to focus on him? He wasn’t sure. “We must’ve gone through a couple bottles.” The candy unwrapped with a twist and a pop, and she slung it in her mouth like she was taking a pill. “The only other thing I know is that it was really cold out,” she said in between quick chews.

Ah. So she had no memory of how she got up there or how they got back. He felt rather disappointed, knowing that she didn’t remember any of the jokes he told or the very nice kiss they had or the strange allusion she’d made when she compared him to the whirling shower of sparks that lit up the night sky. Then again, they hadn’t talked about it since, and it wasn’t like it was a defining moment or anything, outside of her surprise in the beginning. This was the opportunity to see that reaction all over again, and it would be genuine and with a fresh twist.

“Get your coat,” he said plainly, shuffling off the desk to land on his feet.

“What for?” She blew a bubble and let it soar away into the air.

“You need a _demonstration_ ,” he said with a purr at the end.

Dandrane searched his gaze, but seemed to find whatever she was looking at satisfactory. “Alright. I trust you,” she said with a soft smile, summoning her coat from the office and making it soar down like a swooping bird. She turned her back and let it fall over her shoulders like a cape before tucking her arms in the appropriate spots as the door upstairs shut. The poltergeist couldn’t help but grin at the unnecessarily flashy display.

“Keep limp, now,” Peeves instructed. He reached over to grab her arms with both hands, and with a firm thought of the Astronomy Tower in mind, he spun a half-circle on his heel, pulling her along and making her stumble.

The classroom scenery had been replaced with the sunset atop of the tower in a second. Or maybe it was two or three – Peeves wasn’t sure exactly how much time was lost when he travelled like that. He kept his hands on the half-stumbled Dandrane, making sure she could steady herself.

“What the-?” She blinked, open-mouthed, at the darkening sky. “We’re…” Her icy blue eyes flittered to him, wide and wild. “You can _APPARATE?!_ ” Dandrane’s brows furrowed, and he felt a little wave of anger under the wool grazing lightly against his fingertips. Fitting, considering the mist that formed in the winter air from her hot breath reminded him of smoke from a dragon’s mouth.

“Yup!” He said with a sly smile. “Before you say ‘why didn’t you tell me’ – I _did_. You just don’t remember.”

Her mouth opened fast and closed slowly. He saw the flash of pink gum beside her teeth. “Oh…”

“It’s alright, Danny. We _did_ drink a lot of champagne. Or _sham-pag-neh_ , as _you_ said.” He laughed, thinking about the way she had giggled uncontrollably over it after her fourth glass. He let her arms go, and she kept looking between him and the view.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes soft and piercing him with something warm. “I’m still…riled up. I’m not really mad at you. Just…myself.”

“’S okay,” Peeves said, floating up to see her face to face again. “I get it.”

“I don’t know how this all fits,” she muttered, chewing a bit as she glanced back at the mountain hiding the sun from view. Her eyes shimmered in that _thinking_ way. “You’re just a big box of mysteries… Or _little_ , more like,” Dandrane smirked, eying him and popping a small bubble. “Still, this does take my mind off everything. And the view’s pretty.”

He hadn’t been looking at anything else but her the whole time. “’d say ‘stunning’ is more fitting,” he shot back with a leer.

The witch laughed for the first time that whole day. “You _corndog_.”

“Danny, if you’re really _stressed_ … You know I’ll take everything you give out. If you want to break things and let loose for a while… Trophy Room’s always open. And the Room of Requirement, ‘course.”

She gave a small smile, putting the wad of gum back in the crinkled wrapper and shoving it in her pocket. “You know, that actually sounds good. I’d enjoy smashing some _vases_.” Dandrane looked at him so affectionately, he thought he would burst. “Thank you, Peeves.”

“So… Want to know about the other animal ghosts I’ve seen, or do you want to break an expensive vase first?”

Dandrane’s eyes lit up, and her expression transitioned from _thinking_ to _sultry_. “First, I want to kiss you. Then we can go break a couple dozen porcelain vases somewhere,” she said, reaching out to pull him closer by his lapels. “Then I kiss you _again_ , maybe let my hands wander a little too much, and _then_ we can talk death.”

Peeves found his arms looping around her neck as he pressed against her. “Aww, Danny, you always know just what to say,” he teased, and with a hum of a laugh on her lips, she kissed him properly, warming him even as she shuddered from the chill the air brought to his skin.

*~*~*~*~*

The staircase to Owlery was quite the climb, even by Hogwarts’ standards. Cyrus, used to the daily climb of Ravenclaw tower, wasn’t as perturbed by its long, twisting path. He had to watch out for the occasional slippery spot, but he was used to that, as Peeves the Poltergeist would sometimes open the windows there on winter nights, letting in the snow and freezing rain to make the climb more challenging. That, and you always had to watch out for the bird poop that accumulated near the top. It didn’t matter how much straw was laid out on the floor - mail owls were still _birds_.

The one thing he still wasn’t used to was the view.

It was beautiful, seeing the lake and the mountains from such a long way up, as if he were rising like a bird, but such things also brought an odd sense of dread in him. He hated the height a broomstick brought him – one wrong move and he would fall to the ground, and he knew he would rather shut his eyes and hope for a soft landing rather than watch and dig hopelessly for his wand, which likely would drop out of his pocket and out of reach. Stairs were safer, being more confining and allowing him an easy grasp of a railing or stone if he were to slip.

Still, it didn’t stop him from dreaming about falling. Falling through holes in the floor or off of the Quidditch stands or over the railing of the entrance hall. Sometimes he was saved, but usually he wasn’t.

That didn’t mean he didn’t think about what would happen if he slipped on the stairs, either. Forward or backward, it would hurt, and he’d either knock his teeth out or tumble backwards until his skull cracked open, if his body’s magic didn’t have enough energy to save him. He tried not to think of it as he climbed up to the Owlery, but the steps had no carpet and he had to keep his eyes peeled and his footing careful. He tried not to think of last night’s dream, where the stairs crumbled underneath him and opened to the abyss, where a gargantuan centipede crawled in circles waiting for him.

He’d almost screamed awake. He’d woken up Stan. Good, reliable Stan Kotler, who made sure he was alright, who made Ebony sleep on his bed for the rest of the night for the kind of comfort that only a soft, cute thing could provide. The black cat wasn’t quite the same as Mr. Wool, who was stashed under Cyrus’ pillow miles and miles away, but the warm presence near his legs had made things a little better. As he lay there in the dark, the teen could practically hear his father telling him he was too old to want to cling to his stuffed lamb.

Cyrus stood on his toes to climb around one of the more soiled parts of the top of the stair, wanting to send his letter off sooner rather than later. He only had so much time to himself. He took a look outside the nearest window and saw a flash of white wings amongst the dim light of the setting sun. _Strange, I didn’t think we had any snowy owls._

He walked through the ever-open doorway to the Owlrey and froze before the parliament of owls all huddled on their perches, staring at the newcomer to their towering domain.

It wasn’t a snowy owl he had seen - it was a white dove.

A white dove which now rested on Audrey Hayburth’s shoulder, holding out its leg for her to take the small scroll of paper it had tied to its foot.

Good Lord, she was as pretty as ever, her tawny skin and inky black hair contrasting with the snowy view of the forest below. Cyrus swallowed the lump in his throat and reminded himself that they were supposed to be friends. She’d pulled him aside from Potions after the Valentine’s weekend and said she wanted to be friends with him and that she hoped he didn’t hate her or anything. He’d answered a little too hastily that of course he didn’t, and thus their quiet friendship began.

But he couldn’t help how he felt. It wasn’t like they really hung out or anything – they mostly just ran into one another or were coincidentally grouped together in classes sometimes. They’d had a couple of casual conversations, talking about brewing methods and what they were supposed to be practicing and the far too casual question of how the other was doing. He felt like his mother, answering ‘fine’ every time even though he didn’t mean it. But you didn’t tell someone who rejected you that you still thought about kissing them nearly every day.

“Good job, Artemis,” Audrey cooed gently, stroking the bird’s chin with a finger. Cyrus wondered whether Audrey knew the ironic imagery of her lovingly petting a pigeon while she was wearing a beanie with knit cat ears on the top. Then he realized he should say something rather than just stand there and stare at her.

“Um, evening, Audrey,” he said as if he hadn’t been admiring the way her shiny hair cascaded over her back.

She turned, her cheeks flushed slightly as she slowly put her hand down. He didn’t know if it was out of embarrassment or the cold. “Good evening, Cyrus.” The dove let out a soft coo and tilted its head.

“I’ve never seen a dove around here before.”

“I found him after the break on the library windowsill. I asked Hagrid, but he said we didn’t usually get many pigeons this time of year,” she explained, keeping her eyes focused on the bird while giving him what looked like a dried cranberry. “I think I was meant to find him… I’ve always wanted a bird.”

“Why don’t you get an owl?”

“My mother’s screech owl doesn’t do well with other owls,” she said, a disappointed ring to her voice. “Do _you_ have an owl?”

“Er, no – we live in a muggle neighborhood. We have to go to the post office.”

“Really? I live in Badger’s Drift. The muggle and magic communities aren’t as blended as others.”

“Oh.” Cyrus felt foolish, standing there with a million things he wanted to say but couldn’t. He found a school owl on a lower perch and clicked his tongue a few times to call it over – the barn owl stirred, its great black eyes blinking in its odd moon face, and flew to the top of the bird seed dispenser to look down at him. He hated when they did that. It was like they were judging him.

He held up the letter for the bird to take, but it stared down at him. Like it wanted something.

“You have to give her a treat,” Audrey said, wandering over as she reached into a little plastic bag she’d pulled out of her pocket. “Here.” She handed him what looked like a sticky ball of crushed nuts that smelled of fat. “Persephone likes insect suet.”

“The owls are all _named_?” Cyrus had never heard of anyone else calling the school birds by name. It was always more of a ‘hey you, get down here’ kind of thing.

“Sure. Hades is the darker barn owl over there, and then there’s Zeus the eagle owl, Poseidon the long-eared, Demeter the short-eared, and Aphrodite the tawny.”

“What about the little owl in the corner?” Cyrus asked, keeping his palm flat as the owl known as Persephone nibbled at the ball of suet.

“That’s Tim.”

Cyrus couldn’t help but laugh a little. “So you’re returning to tradition, calling your pet ‘Artemis’?” He smiled, holding up the envelope to home for the owl to take as he eyed the dove sitting calmly on Audrey’s shoulder. Strangely enough, her cheeks flushed darker.

“Um, no, not exactly…” She looked very pretty when she was embarrassed. Maybe it was because she seemed to have a limited range of facial expressions, and the pink notes to her smooth skin didn’t appear that often. “It’s from _Sailor Moon_.”

The owl clicked its beak, snatched the letter out of the teen’s hand, and flew off to a few hoots and light screeches that Cyrus figured must’ve meant ‘goodbye’ in owl. He watched it soar for a moment, and felt both jealous of its effortless ability and thankful that it wasn’t him looking down at the forest below.

“Hey, Audrey, _you_ fly…”He said, groping for a new topic of conversation. “Do you ever feel strange on a broom?”

She blinked, and he felt like she was analyzing him. She took a moment to answer, and it was said carefully. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I feel like I’d fall right off one. Don’t you ever feel like that?”

The teenage girl’s expression changed only slightly, and he felt like she was relieved, but he didn’t know why. “Not at all. Have you never flown?”

“I hovered during the first-year flying class, but I mostly sat on the sidelines for it… I really didn’t like the sensation, balancing on a branch…” He couldn’t help but go back to that class for a second in his head – the awful helplessness of being suspended in midair and the hawk-like eyes of Madam Hooch staring at him, appraising his skill to see if he matched up with his older brother. He remembered sitting on the grass, watching his two new friends try their best to fly around; neither of them were great, but they were enjoying themselves, at the very least. He’d felt jealous, then, too, but he covered it with glowing support, knowing it was wrong to be jealous of someone having fun.

“That was years ago, though. Why don’t you try again?” Audrey tilted her head slightly at him, her mossy green eyes softer. “You could always meet me on the pitch after practice. I helped Leslie and Kelly with their flying, I wouldn’t mind teaching you.”

He pictured himself riding on the broomstick behind her like he was on a motorcycle, and found his face grow warm in embarrassment from the very thought of clinging to her back. _I could spend more time with her that way_ , he thought. “Er…maybe…”

“I won’t let you fall,” Audrey stated like it was a fact she was trying to drill into his head. Like he was suggesting he’d jump over a bridge, and she was the hero staring him down to convince him that he wasn’t going anywhere.

He could hardly refuse that. There was something very earnest in how she looked at him. “Alright. I’ll… I’ll tell you when I’ve psyched myself up for it,” he said, a small, embarrassed smile quirking at the corner of his mouth. “It might be a bit.”

“There’s no rush.” Audrey reached up to stroke the dove’s feathers. “I’ll be training Artemis in the meantime…”

Her stony green eyes seemed to see past him, up and over his shoulder, and for a beat he wondered if the Bloody Baron was behind him again. Cyrus turned to look, but there was no ghost there, nor any bird.

Instead, there was the window. They had a crummy view from that one, which faced the rest of the castle more than the landscape. The Astronomy Tower was thin, but tall, with a flat top rather than the pointed tower peaks. They were close enough to see each other. Cyrus would see an owl swoop from one tower to the other and be able to spot it sitting up there on one of the rectangular stones that jutted upward from the rail.

Even in the dimming light, he could see a head of pink hair up there, standing close to something blue and black.

 _Very_ close.

But the glimpse only lasted for a brief moment before Audrey moved, grasping his shoulder like a stern parent, and his attention was refocused on her. “Cyrus,” she said simply, as if nothing was strange about her looking out the window mid-conversation, “I need a favor.”

“Um… What is it?” He replied, not sure what made her eyes flick up over him again, even as her hand dropped back to her side. He wanted the weight of her hand to stay where it had been, holding firmly but not squeezing…

“I need help getting Irene’s books back.”

“Oh.” Book retrieval? Did she often leave her stuff just lying around? “Okay, which ones?”

“The… _romance_ ones. A couple haven’t been returned,” she said with a little shrug, not quite looking at him.

Cyrus felt his face heat with embarrassed guilt, knowing he still had one stashed in his trunk, enchanted to look like an extra textbook. “Er, doesn’t she just leave them in the library?”

“Yes, but it’s for specific people, usually. She can’t swap them in her common room, with the prefects or Head Girl watching. She worked out the system with about fifteen girls, including myself. They seem on the level, so I don’t know why they say they don’t have them…”

“Why doesn’t she just swap them between classes?” He wondered aloud, knowing that older kids passed things all the time inside books or by slights of hand. Felix had gotten the answers for a test more than once that way, as well as beer or whiskey shrunken down or transformed into ink pots.

Audrey seemed to sigh through her nostrils. “She thought it would be more fun… And less conspicuous. You can’t have a group of fifteen girls from different houses meeting all the time. Clubs wouldn’t work, either – you have to have a teacher or prefect oversee those now.”

That was true. People were worried another Death Eater gang would form, as it had done years before their time. The school board sanctioned it, and McGonagall had to follow along. “Good point. Any ideas on who might have kept them?”

“Four ravens are in the group, but Irene believes they're innocent, and I can’t go up and check for myself.”

“Well it’s not like I can, either – girls rooms are off limits to guys…” Cyrus thought back to the towering bookshelves of the common room, where people often put things from home or extra copies of texts. It was practically a library of its own. Sneaky swapping probably went on through there, too, considering they all went through room inspection every month. “But I think I know where they might have put them.”

Audrey’s smile was all the reward he needed, but she still thanked him and promised she’d owe him one. He thought it was funny she’d say that, considering she was offering to give him broom riding instruction, but he decided not to mention it.

It almost made him forget about seeing Professor Flemming up on the Astronomy Tower, standing very close to someone…

The image ran around his head for the rest of the night, taunting him and getting dimmer and dimmer, while the memory of Audrey’s hand on his shoulder burned brighter. By the next morning, it was so blurry he forgot it entirely; instead he found himself flustered over the sight of Audrey’s left hand cupping her cheek as she talked to Leslie, feeling his shoulder go light like she was touching him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh… Soooo… I managed to get a chapter out before the year was over! How about that… I, uh, have something to confess. My personal project...it’s gotten some headway, and I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished so far, but damn is it hard to stay in one groove at a time. I refuse to abandon this story, because it’s what drives me, what inspires me, what makes me sit down at this damn keyboard and type away in the first place. But I find I can only focus on one thing at a time. I want to use all my time to hash out my personal work when I get that special source of inspiration, and to be honest, I didn’t start working properly on AGTF again until the Muse basically smacked me in the face and told me “hey, fuck waiting any longer for that thing you like, you’re being driven crazy! Just spoil yourself and see the thing!!! Indulge in it!! _USE IT YOU CRAZY BITCH_!! What are you even waiting FOR???” As you can see, inspiration hit like a damn lightning strike to the heart after that, and I found a nice chunk of it aimed it directly at AGTF. But that doesn’t always happen, as you may know... Inspiration comes and goes, self-doubt knocks around, and life’s chores become hindrances to your every move when your trying desperately to put your hands to work. It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t need sleep...especially since my ideas for this chapter came in the very early morning hours one day...
> 
> So, bottom line: updates might be slower than usual in the coming months. I hope you understand. My goal for 2018 is to finish my project, shove it into the world, and hope to every deity that people snatch it up and beg for more. My other goal is to continue updating this until it’s complete. Since the story’s in March, that means there’s only about 3 more months worth of material… But hey, it takes a while just to get through a month in this story! That ought to give us plenty of time left together. This story, it ain’t going anywhere… And on the tiny chance it does, I’ll give you a damn good warning.
> 
> In other news, apparating! Yes, I alluded to Peeves being able to apparate before, but I was saving this moment for...well, ages! I always wanted Danny to just go "PEEVES WHAT THE FUCK" when she sees him apparating for the first time, because...hell, I actually _forgot_ he could apparate until I reread the series in June of 2015, and the revelation surprised the hell out of me. It's during my least favorite scene, sure, but hey, I'll take what I can get when it comes to my precious overlooked son! I figure Peeves either gained the ability from the house elves' magic, or he has so much magic packed inside him that he's powerful enough to get around the powerful no-apparation charms on the castle. Technically, it could be both...
> 
> Well, that's all from me for 2017. I'll see you next year, sometime in the near future. Have a wonderful holiday, and my deepest, happiest wishes to all of you for reading, commenting, kudos-ing, and just giving this story a chance in the merciless sea of HP fanfic. You inspire me to do my best on all I write - and I love you for it! Wish me luck! _φ(*￣ω￣)ﾉ


	23. Match Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late post, folks. Thank you to all who regularly check for updates – I notice, and I love you for caring so much! (;﹏;) 
> 
> **Important Spoiler Tags:** passing reference to abuse from a family member
> 
> (If there's anything else I need/should tag, please tell me!)

 “This really wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the whole ‘familiar’ angle,” Dandrane explained with the same annoyed tone she’d used when talking about the problems with Azkaban, “I mean, if animal ghosts _are_ familiars, there’s no way to prove it – ghosts can’t hold a wand, much less give a few drops of blood to do the proper connection ceremonies.”

Peeves bobbed in the air a few feet away, drumming his fingers on his arm and eying the old tennis ball the pink-haired witch was bouncing up and down with her racket. He’d thought getting her out of her office would be a change of pace enough to get her mind off her latest research subject for a while. It’d gone alright at first, with each of them scoring a few points in their little game of wall-tennis, but she was taking more and more time to serve, choosing to chatter about the stuff she’d been writing and erasing and throwing away all week. Normally he wouldn’t have minded, but he swore he’d heard and seen this same line of thought before, and now it seemed the only difference between her quarters and the empty stretch of hallway they occupied was that she was now fiddling with a tennis racket rather than a pen or piece of chalk.

“Not to mention that it means animal-human soul-bonding is literally _so powerful_ that it surpasses death itself,” she said, shifting her weight to one bare foot. The noxious green paint on her toes stood out against the flat stone floor, looking as if she’d splashed them with some toxic potion or chemical sludge rather than painted them on one of her breaks. “I mean, the two lives are supposedly always linked anyway, since one always dies soon after the other, but to become _ghosts_ together? That’s scary.”

“You going to serve or _not_?” He asked impatiently, making a point to wobble his racket at her in the air.

Dandrane shifted, bouncing the ball on the floor once more before hitting it at the center of the wall. It wasn’t much of a hit – Peeves hit it back with ease, and she hit back softly, and they played back and forth for two or three hits until Peeves got annoyed enough to give an extra-hard swing. She actually took a few steps to try and hit it, hitting it back just as hard.

“But if they _aren’t_ familiars,” Dandrane said, her tone unchanging as she missed the ball by several inches, “and they came back for the sake of their owner or something, then why doesn’t anyone _mention_ them?”

The ball rolled away, but the witch bent to roll her fallen pant-leg back up to the middle of her thigh instead, being mindful of the matching burnt-orange jacket she had tied around her waist. “I mean, hundreds of books out there in the world, and not _one_ mentions the ghostly visage of their great-aunt’s cat sitting in the windowsill?”

Peeves sighed through his nostrils as he floated away to go fetch the wayward ball for her. He knew he should just be glad that she wasn’t as restless as she was before now that she had two new subjects to think over in her spare time, but it didn’t stop her repetitive rambling from being irksome. He’d heard this _exact_ complaint several times this week. Still, he’d rather have arse-deep-in-research-Dandrane than chomping-at-the-bit-to-go-anywhere-else-Dandrane.

Agreeing with her on this point got her nowhere, as did joking about it. “Maybe ‘s just one of those things,” he offered this time, bouncing the tennis ball around as he made his way back, “Like, ‘Everyone knows about them already, why mention it?’ That missing Egyptian city ‘everyone knew about’ is still a mystery, i’n’it?”

“Hm, could be,” she muttered, putting her hands on her hips as she seemed to stare at the wall. “Unless Lonny’s conspiracy theory is right about that one,” she added with a slight smile. “He thinks it’s all a huge cover-up for some super-secret base, like a magical _Area 52_.”

Peeves felt a grin stretch up a bit at that one – she’d never really told him much about her supposed-best-friend, mostly because he didn’t ask, but he got the impression that the guy was quite the weirdo. Peeves liked making fun of those types just as much as he liked hanging around them, albeit mostly post-mortem. If she was switching subjects, it was usually a good sign her train of thought had switched tracks. He served again, choosing to aim high up on the wall and watch Dandrane try and chase it – she had the advantage of being naturally tall, so she didn’t have to jump much to thwack it back.

“But you know,” she said with a harsh forward-hand, “if animal ghosts aren’t familiars – or at least not _all_ of them are -” she carried on as she hit the ball back with a lazy swing from her side, “then doesn’t that imply that _anything_ of some level of intelligence can willfully choose to stay as a ghost? I mean, I don’t even think animals fear death on the same level as people as it _is_ …”

She had missed his return hit, but this time _she_ went to go retrieve the worn decades-old tennis ball, and Peeves found himself unable to feel too annoyed at her misplaced attention this time. It was hard to be mad at her when she was bending over, the lithe muscles in her long legs tensing for the brief moment she stretched. He only wished that blazer wasn’t in the way of his view…

Not like he couldn’t easily imagine her without it. The thought sent a pleasurable tingle through his brain, and he folded his arms to hold onto himself, trying to anchor himself in the reality that they were in public and that was supposed to be a strict, hard _no_.

Then again, they were _in public_ and he could easily sneak up behind her and cop a feel, hold on and lean into her back until he coerced her into some harmless fooling around…

Impulses were never _easy_ to control for Peeves, but his were normally more aligned with breaking things or saying something, and he usually had enough common sense to know when to really hold himself back. He’d gotten so used to letting the newer touchy-feely ones loose around her in the past couple of months that he was already behind her before he could really think it through.

His hand sneaked right through her clothes and onto her rear.

“ _EEEEK!_ ”

Peeves let go as she straightened with an awful shudder.

“Dude, what the fuck?!” She asked, whirling around with a pale face. “Your hands are _freezing_!”

“Whoopsie.”

“ _Whoops_?” she growled, rubbing at her arms as if it would help, “Don’t grin at me and say ‘whoops’ all cutesy like it was an accident, asshole.”

That only made him grin wider. “Ah, _there’s_ that angry face I missed,” he teased, feeling tiny bits of magic seep into the air. “Think _I’m_ cute, you should see a mirror ‘bout now.”

She scrunched her face. “I don’t know if that’s meant to be a come-on or an insult,” she muttered, seeming to lose some of her steam, “but-”

Peeves felt the person’s presence behind him just as Dandrane paused mid-sentence. Turning to look at what her eyes had caught sight of in the dim torch-light, he saw the shape of a short person with long hair emerging out of the darker part of the corridor. His heart jumped for a second, thinking it might have been Professor Vector, which would mean they might have to explain themselves, but as the person trotted closer in a brisk pace, he saw half of their hair covered their face…

“Leslie?” Dandrane called, arching an eyebrow, “What are _you_ doing here?”

“I heard you shriek,” the fourth-year Slytherin explained, her one brown eye looking squarely into the professor’s.

Dandrane put a hand on her hip, the tennis racket dangling from the other, and Peeves almost wanted to sit back and watch as the witch took on a more stern voice. “That’s not what I meant. It’s almost -” the professor quickly glanced at her watch, minding the position of her racket – “past _eleven_. You should be in your dorm by now.”

“ _Common room_ , Phlegmy,” Peeves reminded her with a superior look. “Should get your British-isms right by _now_.”

The witch rolled her eyes. “Common room, dorm, sleeping-hole, _whatever_. The point is _you_ should be a lot nearer your own bed,” she said pointedly at the student in front of them.

“I…sort of lost track of time,” the girl said with a slight glance away. “Kelly and I were practicing in one of the empty rooms-”

“Practicing what?” Dandrane asked, narrowing her eyes slightly and looking very much like a responsible authority figure should.

“Charms,” Leslie said simply, folding her arms.

“Uh-huh,” Dandrane replied skeptically, humor crinkling at the corners of her eyes and mouth.

Peeves tittered. “Times change, eh? Used to just call that _snogging_ …”

“It wasn’t snogging!” Leslie said defensively, her cheeks growing pink, “We’re _both_ behind in Charms, we decided to do the practice together, she doesn’t get along with the other Gryffindors that well – we lost track of time, but when I went down to the dungeon I found the password had changed, and I went to go see Professor Slughorn, but -”

“It was past his bedtime,” Dandrane finished with a tilted smile, “I swear, you could set a watch by that guy’s sleeping schedule.” The pink-haired professor sighed lightly, glaring down at the floor with a puzzled sort of frown. “Well, we can’t wake him up – I’ve tried that before, he sleeps like a _log_ – and I don’t know any of the passwords… You haven’t seen any prefects wandering around?”

“No…”

“Well we can’t drop you into another house, they’d try to skin me alive for that… Can’t let you stay outside, either; and I _know_ those other houses will just jump at the chance to dock points.” Dandrane seemed to settle on some idea very quickly, judging by how her face lit up as she tapped her chin with her free hand. “ _Sooo_ I guess you’ll just have to sleep on the couch!”

“ _What?”_ Peeves and Leslie seemed to answer at the same time, in very different tones – Peeves came off a lot more annoyed and disbelieving, unlike Leslie, who just seemed mildly surprised.

“Well it wouldn’t do for you to just wander into the nurse’s office with the actual patients, and I can’t think of anywhere else you could go that would be safe enough – so I’ll just let you bunk on the couch! I’ll write a note for you, too, so no worries.”

Peeves had felt his face heat and his mouth twitch into a frown, but he tried his best to catch himself before either of them noticed. He didn’t spend _every_ night with Dandrane, but the thought that he _couldn’t_ was annoying, and made worse by their time together being cut short.

The professor turned to him, her smile unchanging and her eyes piercing. “You don’t mind changing our match into table tennis, do you? Less damage that way.”

“ _Less_ damage? Know who you’re talking to?” He quipped back, managing a fraction of a grin, though it didn’t feel as natural as it should have. Being able to stick around for a while longer by keeping up their little game was only so much of a consolation prize.

Leslie Combes gave the young woman a strange look, as if she was trying to puzzle out why on Earth Professor Flemming would willingly play table tennis with him. Peeves felt a flitter of something hot in his gut and promised himself to throw something at the covered side of the kid’s face later.

“Professor,” Leslie started, staring as the pink-haired witch snatched her summoned heels out of thin air, “if you don’t mind me asking, why _did_ you scream earlier?”

“Well I’d say that was more of a _yelp_ ,” Dandrane remarked as she led them down the hallway, “but I saw a rat. Racket, please,” she said casually with her free hand outstretched towards the poltergeist, her wand and a newly-transformed pink paddle in the other. Peeves handed it over, trying not to let his gaze linger too long – he really didn’t know how she could do stuff like that so quickly. It wasn’t like Peeves _couldn’t_ lie, despite not really needing too, but even with a thousand years of stretching the truth he knew he _never_ sounded that convincing.

Leslie made a strange hum. “That’s funny, you handled that dead rat fine the other day in class…”

“I’ve fed my vulture more than her fair share of those,” the professor said with a slight frown, tapping her wand to the racket and turning into an orange paddle, “Besides, they’re _dead_ ; it’s not like _they’re_ going to suddenly scamper around in the corners of your field of vision…”

Peeves gave the student walking next to them a malicious grin. “Wouldn’t know much about _that_ , though, would you, Cyclops?”

The Slytherin’s short eyebrow furrowed as her face turned pink, quickly adverting her gaze from either of them.

Dandrane stopped in her tracks, glaring down icily at the poltergeist with the orange paddle pointed at him like a knife point. “If you think I won’t smack you with this-”

Peeves held up both of his hands, shrinking back a tad with his grin still twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Okay, okay – _sorry_ , Combes,” he said in the most convincing tone he could muster. It was hard to do, considering he had been tempted to give Dandrane a very perverted reply about where she could smack, and he was _never_ sorry for picking on people who walked right into insults in the first place. “Can’t help myself.”

Dandrane narrowed her eyes at him, but shoved the paddle into his hands anyway. “Don’t do it again,” she warned vaguely as they continued on towards her office, her wand shoved back into her pocket. “I _did_ wonder why you kept your hair down like that,” she said, glancing over at the fourth-year, “but I didn’t want to ask.”

“It’s okay,” Leslie shrugged, pulling aside her hair for a brief moment to look fiercely back at the professor, as if daring her to flinch until the curtain of dark hair fell back into place. “My grandfather threw a curse at me when I was five, when he found out I was half-muggle.”

If Dandrane had any disgust for the milky white eye that stared back at her under the thin starburst of scar tissue, she hid it incredibly well. “Jokes on him, he just gave you a cool superhero backstory,” she said with a charming smile. Leslie gave a sound like a cross between a scoff and a laugh. “I knew an Auror from Louisiana who had half an arm missing and burns from here to here,” she continued, miming her hand from her right ear down to her elbow. “She was one of the coolest people I’ve ever met – and one of the strongest. Miss T. could turn all three of us into working refrigerators with a wave of her wand if she wanted. With the way you’re going in my class, Leslie, you could be like that one day, too.”

Leslie gave a dry laugh, her face turning slightly pinker. “I doubt it. Slytherin isn’t exactly renowned for its _heroes_.”

Peeves, feeling rather left out of the conversation, couldn’t help but chime in, even if it wasn’t in his usual outside-Dandrane’s-room-demeanor:  “Oh, _yes_ , not a _one_ in there, except ol’ what’s-his-face – you know, _Merlin_?”

Dandrane turned to him with a surprised grin, almost as if she hadn’t just threatened him minutes ago. It was impossible to stop his heart from doing that stupid _shuddering_ thing it did when she made cute faces. “Merlin was a _Slytherin?!_ No way!”

“Personally dumped his books and dropped his trousers for seven years, think I wouldn’t know what house he was in?”

“I had no idea! People always talk like he was a Ravenclaw!” Dandrane turned back to Leslie, pointing a polished toxic-green nail at her. “Next Merlin right here, calling it now.”

“I’m pretty sure _Dumbledore_ was considered the next Merlin,” Leslie said, glancing away from them.

“Fine, Merlin 3.0 – my point is, that eye of yours can be intimidating, but if you work hard, you can make those pure-blood skin-heads quake in their boots,” Dandrane said with a proud smirk and a light nudge of the paddle’s edge on the younger girl’s shoulder. “I don’t want to hear talk about turning into Morgana instead, either.”

Leslie looked more contemplative after that, and the silence lasted for a bit as they climbed down one of the secret passageways Dandrane actually remembered.

“So, Peeves – did Merlin ever visit Hogwarts after he graduated?”

“Pfft, is _Sir_ Nicholas nearly headless? Actually _taught_ here for a while, on and off, ‘til Morgana started causing trouble.” Peeves floated next to Dandrane, not caring about being half inside the wall as he twirled the small orange paddle around in his hand. “Wore Slytherin colors every time. Funny, though, I remember seeing him wear blue a lot in his later visits,” he added, thinking back to centuries ago when Merlin had insisted that all of his great-grandchildren sit together at one table with him. He’d been one of the few people Peeves looked forward to seeing show up after they left. “Used to wear _loads_ of red when he wasn’t teaching…”

“There’s some weird theory about colors influencing magic out there,” Dandrane commented, keeping her eyes on the stairs in front of her, “Like, blue is supposed to channel better, but red is more powerful or something? Or maybe the other way around, I don’t remember – even Lonny’s not too sure about that one, and he believes in the mass abduction of Roanoke.”

“…who’s Lonny?” Leslie asked quietly from behind.

“He taught history back at my last job. We became tight when I found him arguing with the math teachers about that Dumbledore tell-all book and how even _he_ noticed the homosexual undertones in Grindlewald’s and Albus’ letters. I remember butting in and going ‘keep it down, you’re scaring the straights’,” Dandrane mock-whispered with a wide grin and a gesture at the wall with her thumb. Peeves had heard this exact story before, but he still liked it enough to listen again. “That one well-timed movie quote launched a friendship so strong it surpassed the need for technological advancement in overseas communication. I can rely on that guy for a letter every week. Unlike _some_ people,” she finished with a mutter, and the poltergeist knew from their pillow-talk she was referring to Florette; the witch had been very quiet about the process of Peeves’ spit sample, and while Dandrane had explained that such things took time, especially when it was a side-project, she said it was unusual for a woman who used to visit her for a meal every other week to keep so much to herself. Dandrane’s other friends seemed to write sporadically, but that was deemed more in-character, and Peeves had heard enough of her stories and peeked through enough of their letters to know she was probably right.

“But I mean, _really_ , I don’t get how people could deny that relationship anyway – the photos of those two together had gay vibes so strong it could’ve powered The Harpies’ Den on a Friday.”

Peeves couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his throat if he wanted to. He heard it echo off the walls in the small spiral staircase for a moment, no doubt reaching a wayward ear somewhere between floors, and he knew from years of experience that the kid behind them was now _instantly_ uncomfortable, but at the very least Dandrane seemed rather proud of herself.

“Ooh, I made you laugh! Check that off the to-do list,” the pink-haired witch smirked, ticking an imaginary box off in mid-air. Part of him really wondered why she was being so openly friendly with him in public, when they were _supposed_ to be keeping their relationship a secret, but…was he really _complaining_ about that? She’d been so wrapped up in her drive to research that it felt like they hadn’t talked casually like this in a while. Most nights she was reading through a mountain of books she had dragged back with her from the library to find anything even remotely useful to jot down, and Peeves was not very much help in that area; not for a lack of trying, of course, but he ended up doodling and writing rude jokes in the margins more than actually reading. Maybe it was because the kid had actively caught them clearly hanging out together? “Now I just need to beat you at tennis and I’ll be done for the month.”

“So what do I get if I win?” Peeves asked with a suggestive leer.

“Your head still remaining attached to your shoulders,” Dandrane shot back with an evil look. “Don’t think I’ve forgiven you for breaking my _Misfits_ album.”

It took him a second to catch onto the fact that this was a very blatant lie, and he only hoped the kid behind them didn’t notice his slight fumble. “Have to _catch_ me to do that, Phlegmy. Stronger teachers than you ’ve tried.”

“Oh, I don’t know - Leslie, do you think you can wield a bug net? I could always use the assistance.”

 When at last they wedged themselves out of the secret passage, with Dandrane helping the Slytherin girl navigate over the crooked bottom stair, Peeves felt like the atmosphere had shifted strangely. Not because the student with them was undoubtedly paying very close attention to their friendly-antagonistic banter, but because he felt like something was there with them, and he didn’t know what.

“Okay, kiddo, final stretch. I’d take your shoes off, if I were you,” Dandrane suggested quietly. Leslie took the advice, slipping off muggle sneakers as the professor seemed to examine their surroundings for signs of life.

They took off, the silence of the dark hall punctured by the witches’ soft footsteps and quiet breaths. Peeves wanted to hum, just to make some kind of proper disruption, but the feeling of _something else_ in the hallway kept him as silent as the grave. He kept trying to place it to something he knew. It wasn’t a person, it wasn’t an animal, or even a whole pack of _either_. It was...like a low _grumble_ of something.

Dandrane had stopped right before they rounded the corner, shooting out an arm to stop Leslie from stepping forward, and Peeves realized that the grumbling thing wasn’t just a feeling at the back of his head, but a sound. Like the snorting of a horse, almost.

“Hold this,” she whispered, shoving the transformed tennis racket into Peeves’ hands. “Both of you, stay here.”

Peeves opened his mouth to protest, but she already started moving around the corner, not looking at either him or her student. Leslie glanced at him, and he side-eyed her back, and without words they agreed to throw away that particular instruction and peek around the corner.

The door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office was completely overshadowed by a massive bronze monstrosity, it’s bright metallic eyes gleaming in the dark as it stood on all fours, curls of grey smoke unfurling from its nostrils. It made the strange snorting noise as it saw Dandrane approach, more incense-smelling smoke dispersing into the air; yet there was no cloud hovering at the ceiling or clogging the hallway.

“It’s okay, Vinz, the rooster is home,” Dandrane said in a low tone that Peeves could barely hear. The bronze beast did not move from its spot, but it did stop hunching like a cat. “Tell me what happened.”

“I told her to go away,” the beast said in a low growl, showing off its maw of pointed teeth with every word, “but she didn’t listen.”

Peeves looked down at Leslie, who was crouched slightly with her head barely around the corner. “You ever see this before?”

“No,” the girl whispered back, her eye watching the professor intently, “have you?”

“Wouldn’t be asking otherwise,” he shot back, watching Dandrane move towards the now sitting beast. “Thousand years of kickin’ ‘round, and she keeps pullin’ out _surprises_.”

The beast’s eyes flashed and it’s bushy curled eyebrows narrowed with a snarl. “She tried to get _in_!”

“It’s okay, buddy,” Dandrane soothed, reaching out to pat the lion-like beast’s enormous leg. “It’s okay.”

“I told her you weren’t in,” the thing continued in a calmer voice, “and that you’d be back soon. She tried to go in anyway. It made me mad, and then _she_ got mad.”

“You didn’t hurt them, did you?” Dandrane frowned. The thing whined, and Dandrane managed to look frightened and angry at the same time. “You didn’t, _did you_?”

“No,” the beast said with the expression of a kicked puppy, its small ears flattening away from its wild metal mane.

“…who was it? Who tried to get in?”

“The Ravenclaw ghost. The tall one.”

Peeves felt disdain clench in his stomach. That bloody brat was _literally_ trying to force her way into what was supposed to be _his_ territory. Sure, he didn’t give a rats’ ass about the investigation into the professor – he hadn’t at the very start – but despite trying to get the message across that Dandrane was nothing to be worried about and the fact that nothing suspicious had happened in the six months of poking their noses into the witch’s business, he apparently was _still_ not taken seriously. _Then again,_ his conscience chimed at him, _haven’t been giving out much information, either. Brat probably got tired of waiting._

Dandrane had waited a moment before hugging the front leg of the strange being. “It’s okay, Vinz. You did a good job.” The beast’s fluffy bronze tail twitched up and down rapidly, as if it were a dog wagging its tail. “ _Nǐ shì wǒ de hǎo háizi_ ,” the pink-haired witch said, her cheek pressed against the front leg of the being as she gave it an affectionate pat on the shoulder. It gave a sort of grumbled whine and started to shrink. Dandrane let go, smiling gently at it as if it was one of the castle’s cats until the shii was small enough to sit back down on the flat bronze pedestal by her door.

She took a quick look down the opposite end of the hall, and then back towards the corner Peeves and Leslie peeked around. “Okay, you can come in now,” she called quietly, twisting the door handle and waiting.

The young Slytherin was moving just a little too slow as she looked anywhere but at the brass shii now sitting quietly by the office door. It sat with one paw on a small ball as its eyes roamed over the hallway.

“Never told me that was a _literal_ guard dog,” Peeves said with a forced grin as he floated overhead, barely registering the student passing through the door before him. “Any other fun toys you’re keeping secret?”

Dandrane looked like she was trying not to laugh. “Nothing _you’d_ be interested in,” she said with a somewhat feral smile, following her student into her office. “Besides, Vinz seems scary, but he’s a good boy. He shouldn’t hurt people unless I tell him to. Same with Zuul here,” she said, pointing to the lion-dog statue sitting by the white armchair, who stood stock-still. “These two are primarily an intercom, but they don’t spring into action like that unless someone tries to break in.”

“So, what, _Zuul_ here will move if you _leave_?”

“Yeah, but she’ll also activate if I sleep. She always knows, somehow,” Dandrane said fondly. “Let me tell ya, Chinatown back home had some _wild_ imports.”

Leslie Combes appeared to be milling around, but her eyes were slowly wandering over everything with a definite look of contemplation. Dandrane, with all the grace of a cat on a fence, slipped her wand out and waved it in the gap of her bedroom doorway; Peeves saw the photo on her nightstand shove itself under one of the pillows as her clothes pile flew under her bed in a massive sweep.

“Make yourself at home, Leslie – but you should know, some of my books have age restrictions,” the witch added with a smile. “And no peeking through the desk drawers, of course.”

“Professor,” Leslie said plainly, her one-eyed stare reminding Peeves very much of the way Dandrane looked at her theoretical notes, “why aren’t you angry?”

Peeves grinned wide, floating to sit himself on the armrest of her couch to watch them both. He hadn’t seen Dandrane get in an argument with a student before.

“You found a student wandering around in the middle of the night and came back to find your security system activated because someone tried to break into your office.” Leslie stared her down hard, like it was a challenge to a duel. “Doesn’t that piss you off a _little_?”

Dandrane’s gaze had cooled, but the smile lingered at the corners of her mouth, as if it couldn’t be wiped away by such trivialities. “If it was _you_ who tried to break in, I would be,” she said with a shrug, “but I’d be more worried about you than anything anyway. I don’t like to think that my kids don’t respect me enough. And don’t take me wrong, I’m offended that the Bird Princess thought she could just waltz in here uninvited, but really, I find it much more funny that she _tried_ ,” Dandrane said with a smirk edging on her lips. “I mean, she’s got all the time in the world and she doesn’t think to just wait in the hall for a while or just come back later?” The witch added with a chuckle, humor lighting up her eyes and making the poltergeist feel like a match had been struck somewhere in his chest. “You’d think several hundred years of being dead would give her some patience.”

Leslie sounded thoughtful at this. “And me?”

“What about you?” Dandrane said politely with a genuine toothy smile. “I’d rather find you walking up to me in the middle of the night than see you try to run away down the corridors.” Dandrane reached over and playfully ruffled the girl’s hair, making her student give a childish squinty sort of irritated look up at her.

“Boooooo!” Peeves called, giving the professor a disappointed pout. “You’re not even going to _lecture_ her? Some teacher _you_ are, Phlegmy.”

“What, _you’re_ going to tell me how to discipline my kids?” Dandrane asked sarcastically, snapping her fingers as her desk floated over to the center of the room; one sweep of her arm and the stuff on top piled itself onto her chair. “ _You_ wanna be the professor now?”

“Do a fair better job than you,” he countered, grinning evilly. “’Least I don’t talk myself in circles half the time.”

She gave him a sort of sneer in return, and he figured he’d hit a sore spot by the way she thoughtfully jabbed her tongue against her upper teeth. He had the feeling that she’d be fairly mad at him later, but right now they had appearances to keep and as messy as his feelings were for her he still liked to push her buttons, so it was worth it. “Alright, smartass. Tell you what – we play a round, and if you win, you get a say in what her punishment should be.”

“Wait, _what_?” Leslie folded her arms and stared disbelievingly at them both.

“Deal, no take-backs!” Peeves exclaimed with a point in the professor’s directions. He made a mental note to drag her out of her office for night-time excursions a lot more often – clearly the shenanigans that followed put Dandrane in a very fun mood.

“But Professor-!”

“No worries, Leslie, I won’t make it anything cruel or outlandish.”

“Don’t I get any say in this?”

“Well we _did_ catch you breaking the rules, so no,” Dandrane said with a shrug. “You can go clean yourself up or pick something off the shelf if you want – but I’ll _know_ if you try to look through my stuff, so none of that,” she added with a surprisingly stern voice.

“This is ridiculous,” the Slytherin muttered, moving to go off to Dandrane’s quarters.

“What’s life without a bit of ridiculousness?” Peeves grinned, twirling the paddle in his hand.

“It’s not life at all,” Dandrane answered with an air of wisdom, turning the tennis ball Peeves threw her into a ping-pong ball. “Though what do you think death is in comparison?”

“Dull and repetitive,” he said, hearing the water in the bathroom start to run from the ancient faucet. “’Least for ghosts.”

Dandrane bounced the plastic ball on her paddle a few times. “Then why do people stick around? They’ve seen the life ghosts have, but choose to become one anyway.”

Peeves knew she’d take the moment after she finished to start their match, so he was prepared to swing the light-as-a-feather ball back at her. “Don’t play coy, _Professor_ , you know it’s a mixed bag,” he purred, delighting in the way her face turned pink at the mention of her little title. She still managed to hit back, though he noticed it was a tad clumsier. “Fear of the unknown, unfulfilled purposes, take your pick.”

“Peeves, don’t talk like that,” she whispered urgently, “There’s a kid _right there!”_ She emphasized with a nod of her head in the direction of the bedroom door.

“You started it,” he retorted, hitting back a little harder as he tried to keep his eye on the ball, “Not my fault you play _dirty_ ,” he teased quietly, leering across the table for a moment.

“Peeves,” she ground out, blushing further and hitting back just as hard, “I mean it. Don’t make me throw you out.”

“Already did _that_ , though, didn’t you?” The poltergeist glared, hitting harder. “Can’t sleep here now.”

“I wasn’t just going to leave her outside,” Dandrane countered, her expression turning sympathetic. “I’d be shitty-ass teacher.”

“You would.” Their hits got gentler again. “Doesn’t mean I like this. I’d rather stay here with you, even if you’re rambly.”

“That’s not a word,” she muttered, her blush going deeper. He never understood how perverted teasing never made her blush, but she’d get flustered over simple truths like that. She caught the next hit with her open hand, looking contemplative as she went back to bouncing it against the paddle, this time against the surface of the desk rather than in the air.

“You _cheat!”_ Peeves pointed at her accusingly, growing more agitated even as her face remained calm and thoughtful. “If you pull tricks like that, I win by _default!”_

“Best of three,” the witch said like there was no room for any other suggestion. “You ever hear a broken record?”

The genuine question threw Peeves off. He wasn’t sure where this conversation was heading. One minute they were playing into their roles of professor and poltergeist, the next they were talking normally, then arguing, and now…this. “Who hasn’t?”

“You ever get a song stuck in your head like that? Where it keeps going around and around because you can’t remember all of the lyrics or key notes?”

The sounds of water in the adjacent bathroom had stopped. “…yes?” It had happened, more than just a couple hundred times over the past thousand years. Usually, he’d hum or sing as much of it as possible to get it out, or else twist it into some newer, better version. Well, better in _his_ opinion, anyway – no one else ever really appreciated his little rhymes, no matter if they were tailored to insult one in particular or designed to cause discomfort in all. With so much new music to occupy his ears this year, his inner bard hadn’t had the opportunity to fine-tune a new little ditty for the castle inhabitants.

Dandrane resumed serving with a leisurely pace. “My brain just _loves_ to do that,” she explained with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Once it latches onto something, it spins it around and around and around, until I can’t think of anything else unless it’s practically in my face.”

Peeves was too preoccupied with trying to keep up with her chatter and play the game to notice that Leslie had returned from the bathroom until he had to take a breath. The smell of Dandrane’s charcoal soap was faint, but fresh in the air.

“So _naturally_ , if I’m not preoccupied with something important, my brain just switches the broken record back on every few minutes.”

Leslie had picked up something from the bookcase and settled into the couch, lying with her feet on Dandrane’s preferred end. Sitting so she could keep an eye out for any funny movement from him, no doubt. Slytherin kids were usually smart and distrustful enough to be wary of Peeves at all times. 

“It’s like somehow I’ll fill the holes in my theories if I just think about it long enough,” she said with a strange little laugh, hitting back and forth as if she didn’t have to think too carefully about what to say. Had she had this conversation with someone before? “So I’ll be laying there, trying to sleep, and the same thoughts keep going around for a while. So I’ve been thinking about nothing but those stupid familiar horses for a week in between everything else.”

Peeves actually missed, and the ball whizzed past him and bounced against the stone floor. He went to go pick it back up, even as Dandrane popped the joints in her shoulder and openly declared the next round as the tie-breaker.

He knew she had been… _obsessed_ with her new little topics of interest, but he didn’t know how far she’d gotten. She’d sunken herself into a repetitive loop of thought and hadn’t said a word. She’d talked openly about her theories now and then, when he’d dropped by her rooms to get his daily dose of her in whatever way he could, but when he settled next to her for the night after a nice round of snogging and strange conversations about whatever had gone on or what either of them were reading (too many books that barely mentioned familiars in passing or works of fiction where pets came home versus his perusal through her own shelves), she hadn’t mentioned the real extent of her thought-loops. It framed the lazy night of wandering hands they’d had the other day in a new light. Had she been focused on him, or stuck in the traps of her mind’s own making?

He didn’t know what hurt worse:  that she likely hadn’t been paying full attention to him during their petting session or that he’d been laying there next to her almost every night that week, awake at least an hour or two later than when she closed her eyes, and she’d been awake and thinking nonstop and never mentioning it until now.

He didn’t really know what to do with this feeling. It wasn’t anger and it wasn’t loneliness or anything really tangible, like hatred or pity or sorrow. It was just this awful, crushing feeling in him, and he had no idea what to do with it, so he swallowed it down with the teaspoon of saliva in his mouth and faced her across the table, aching to throw out their game and just reach out.

To hold her or to grab her by the collar and yell insults at her, he wasn’t sure. So he hit the ball back at her hard, and she almost missed it.

There was a spark in her eyes as they hit back and forth with a speedier aggression. The same that happened when he’d told her that sometimes he’d play tennis by himself when he was really, _really_ bored, and wouldn’t it be more fun if _both_ of them got out of her dark little office to play?

He hadn’t realized she’d lost that spark until he saw it there. What was it, exactly? Interest? An idea? _Life_?

Suddenly, she started laughing to herself, but managed to keep hitting back and forth. “Oh God, it’s like a bad _riddle_ or something! ‘If everyone knows it, why does no one mention it?’”

It took Peeves a moment to realize she was continuing to talk about the bloody ghosts.

“Like, that city just fucking _vanished_! It’s only obvious until the last survivor’s gone, eh?” She laughed, not making much sense to anyone but herself.

He managed to hit back once, then twice, but on the third round, he noticed the expression on her face shift from somewhat warped humor to the familiar look of dawning realization, and he took the opportunity to hit in a strange angle, and she missed by a mile as it whizzed over her shoulder.

“HA!” He slammed the paddle down the desk in triumph as Leslie turned to look, mortified. “I _win_!”

“Ah, you did,” Dandrane said in mild surprise, turning to see where the ball had landed.

“A thousand points from Slytherin!” Peeves exclaimed, his hands on his hips and his usual evil grin spread wide. He could feel despairing discomfort radiating from the couch and reveled in every bit of it.

“Hmm… I was thinking more like _one_ point, but…” Dandrane looked thoughtful and serious, her usual deep-in-research self.

“ONE?! Better mean one _hundred_ ,” Peeves glared, feeling some of the crushing weight from earlier press in his throat like a threat.

“That’s stretching it. But I owe you, so…” (She _owed_ him?) “Sorry, Leslie, I’m taking ten points from Slytherin.”

“Ten,” she echoed, her visible eye narrowed at the professor.

“Yup. Just that.” A wave and a mutter, and her desk was repositioning itself back in its usual place. “I had a thought,” she said in Peeves’ general direction, the icy blues staring him down with that excited curiosity he usually adored.

But he was hurt and to top it all off she had pulled out the little satisfaction he could’ve gotten from the night from under him. “Ooh, what a _rarity_!” Peeves droned sarcastically, “I’ve got one too,” he scowled, blowing a loud raspberry and floating out the door before he fully recognized the change in her expression or registering the call after him of ‘you prick’.

The poltergeist had zoomed out of there and down the hall, his anger practically fueling the journey, but he slowed drastically further away, his head starting to clear. He’d undoubtedly made her mad twice that evening. Maybe this feeling she caused was her way of payback.

Peeves wasn’t sure about the thought in the back of his head that maybe he deserved it for a thousand years of pissing other people off for fun and profit.

Then he had the idea of going back. No doubt she’d be stuck with the little snake all night – he’d sneak in a few hours later, when he knew the kid would be sleeping, and wrap his arms around the professor before she could do anything and tell her she was a right bitch for making him feel this way and demand an apology.

Of course, she wouldn’t have to if she rushed out to follow after him, like in those little romance stories he’d been reading in secret. They often seemed to happen nearer the end of the story, where one person was running after a plane or car or something to tell the other that they loved them and that they were wrong. For a moment, Peeves pictured her running down the hall to catch him by the arm and say just that, and it was as ludicrous as it was painful so he found himself dissolving into a choking kind of laugh. There was no way the woman who said their relationship had to be kept quiet would run out of her office when she had a kid in there.

Still laughing to himself, he wondered what he ought to do now. The second floor was quiet, and though the idea of tormenting Myrtle was always an option, he didn’t feel like sticking around there. Giggles subsiding, he drifted over to the alcove near him and peered out the window there, into the dark forest surrounding the castle, and let his thought process slow to a drizzle.

It was strange how much he didn’t know was out there. A stern word from Gryffindor himself a thousand years ago prevented him from really plunging into the thick of it. He could, technically, go out there any time he felt like. He could go through the whole thing and wind up at some muggle town on the border just to see what it was like. Maybe one day, he’d feel up to really disobeying that old plea…

Maybe _today_ could be that day…

Peeves almost jumped when he felt the hand on his shoulder, and felt his heart try to leap into his throat when he saw Dandrane there behind him, sleeves still rolled to her elbows. He certainly didn’t expect fantasy to become reality, but he’d take it if that’s where the world was heading.

“Babe, I…” She started quietly, nervous and for once unconfident. “You know it was an empty threat, earlier, right? I know you’re mad at me, and it’s not like I’d let you insult a student like that, but I’d…I’d _never_ hit you,” she said seriously, “Not ever.”

Surprise and confusion melted away into heated anger. “ _That’s_ what you think I’m mad about?” Normally the poltergeist had no qualm about being as loud as he wanted, but he didn’t want anyone else to invade their space tonight. Whispers and mutterings it was.

“Well I figured the opportunity to take away a thousand points was just the tip of the iceberg,” she added, scratching at the back of her head and avoiding having to look at him.

“Fuck that!” He hissed, anger and hurt welling up and threatening to spill right there. “You _lied_ to me!”

She didn’t reply, but the look on her face was enough to spell out the fact she didn’t understand.

“You never told me you were that obsessed with those fucking horses! I stay awake longer than you and you never thought to roll over and go ‘Hey, Peevesy, I can’t stop thinking about this shit’! You can’t focus on anything else and you never said a bloody fucking _word_!” He didn’t know when the hot ache in his face and torso had spread to everywhere else. “What am I supposed to think?! How do I even know if you could focus on me in _private?!_ ”

Her eyes widened, anxiousness dripping in the air. “Oh… Oh, _babe_ , I… Look, my brain can be really stupid about wringing out a thought to death, but… For fuck’s sake, it’s hard to look away from you, Peeves.”

It felt like his heart was getting strangled, twitching and choking on her sweet words.

Dandrane’s small smile was gentle. “Just being around you puts that dumb record on mute.” The witch cupped his cheek, anxiety slipping away into nothing and the shiny affectionate look overtaking everything within Peeves’ focus. “Even with other people around, you’ve always got my attention.”

He barely realized he was leaning in to her hand, let alone covering it with his own. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me?” He growled out, hurt and wooed all at once.

“I’m sorry…” Her hand dropped, the cool night air sucking the warmth from his face far too fast. “I thought it’d annoy you.”

“Well, yeah, it _would_ , but… _Shit_ , Danny, I told you before, bottling it up doesn’t go well!” Peeves tugged her forward by her dangling black tie until he could feel her body-heat radiate. “Rather have you a ranting raging bull than a stiff bomb ready to blow – annoy me all you like!”

“…will you stop complaining about me talking in circles?”

He grinned up at her, his hand sliding up the satiny material towards the loose knot. “Not to your _face_.”

“Will you actually listen to the idea I had?”

Peeves’ mouth was an inch away from hers. “Only after you kiss me.”

“I’ve got a kid waiting, you know.”

“They can wait a little longer. Kiss me.”

She pulled away to swivel her head to look behind them, and upon seeing no one, turned back with a wicked gleam in her eye and a smirk on her lips. “Oh, I’ll _kiss_ you alright.”

Dandrane practically devoured him, grabbing his upper arms and pushing him against the window so hard he could feel the thin frames dig into his back. Heat seared his arms and mouth and anywhere the witch was pressing against – oh, _Merlin_ , he could feel heat between his legs, too – while glass and metal cooled his back. The fleshy hardness of her lips claiming his and her tongue running over his tonsils like she owned them was enough to start getting him hard, but when she pressed against him like that, grinding and pinning him down so he couldn’t move more than she wanted him to, it was enough to drive him crazy with want.

She let his arms go, and he clung to her back and practically begged for her to fuck him right there when she harshly nipped at the exposed part of his neck.

“You _want_ me, Peeves?” She whispered huskily, running her tongue over the bitten skin.

“ _Yes_ ,” he answered, digging his fingers into her shirt.

“Let’s see how _much_ ,” she teased, grabbing his throbbing erection through his trousers without any hesitation. “ _Ooh_ , damn, man, you’re _hard_.” She kissed his cheek. “Is this all for me, babe?”

“Every last inch,” he said softly, unable to not grin a little.

“Good.” Her grip tightened. Not…uncomfortably, but it was a little concerning. Especially when she leaned into his ear to whisper to him. “I just want to be sure it won’t _disappear_ …”

Peeves’ grip slipped, confusion starting to wash over him.

“If everyone knows about something, why does no one mention it? Because it’s completely _gone_. That’s why all those undead pets go unrecorded, Peeves – they just _disappear_.” Dandrane pulled back enough to smirk down at him, maliciousness and excitement written all over her flushed face. “Much like _me_. Payback’s a _bitch!”_

Before he could cling onto her or really process everything she had said, Dandrane had shot out of his arms and down the hall, her bare feet slapping the stone floor at a run, and Peeves barely caught a glimpse of her rushing to turn the corner on her too-long legs.

 “That _bitch_ ,” he muttered to himself, half lustfully angry with her leaving him hard and hot and half incredibly proud of how she pulled a fast one on him. “Didn’t even explain what the payback was _for_ …”

He supposed she had her pick:  insulting her, insulting her student, or driving her to kiss him in the first place. Maybe all three. Did it really matter? She left roughly as turned on as him anyway, so there wasn’t a winner in this little game.

The thought of her feeling just as horny as he did made his groin ache, and he left to go find some privacy to finish what she started.

Even though it would be hard, maybe he’d leave her alone for a day or two just to give her a taste of being left in the cold – and the minute they were together again _neither_ of them were going to be left unsatisfied.

*~*~*~*~*

No matter how much time had passed, Cyrus felt Saturdays were always a mix of the urge to get up early and sneak into the living room before his parents awoke and the wonderful lazy feeling of not having to get out of a warm comfortable bed. The only reason he didn’t do either was because Hogwarts had absolutely no way to watch television and both of the fifth-year prefects in his house had an annoying tendency to perform a morning bed check on the weekends.

This Saturday was only different in that Tom and Gavin had a row in the common room amidst the other four prefects during some kind of meeting, and Cyrus wanted absolutely anything at all to get himself away from the tension that permeated the whole tower. Not only was it awkward to hang around during a fight like that, but Cyrus knew that it was only a matter of time before Peeves came rushing in to poke at the flames.

With Nolan stuck in detention since eight, he and Stan had gone to the library at first, but homework became boring after twenty minutes and after proposing the question of ‘how do you find something you can’t specifically ask for in a summons’, Stan had suggested asking a teacher. And of course, with his luck, both Flitwick and Platts had decided to take the day out on the town without anything but different notices saying as much pinned to their office doors. So instead of waiting a couple hours until his head of house’s return, Cyrus opted to go ask Flemming.

The Ravenclaw wasn’t sure what to expect when he looked in at her classroom, but it was certainly not Nolan and scrubbing at a desk with what looked like a smooth brick and Professor Flemming writing on one of three large chalkboards mostly covered in notes.

“Er, pardon us, Professor,” Cyrus began, fiddling with the ends of his sweater sleeves. The older witch turned around to look, her dark glasses flashing briefly in the light.

“Oh, hey – you two can come in as long as you’re not here to rescue him,” Professor Flemming said with a jab of her thumb in Nolan’s direction. “He still has to apply the wood-stain.”

Nolan shot them a defeated look as they passed before returning to his task of apparently filing down the surface of the desk. Cyrus didn’t think adding a crude depiction of a dick to the various faded initials and symbols of teenage rebellion carved into the wood was _that_ bad of an offence, but there was no way he was going to argue with a woman whose icy declaration of a detention had sent the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. Maybe it was because she was usually pretty relaxed around minor rule-breaking; seeing her practically steaming at the ears was strange enough before, but seeing her warm sisterly atmosphere shift right into cold annoyance was bizarre and unsettling.

The Professor smiled at both of them, twirling the chalk in her fingers and seemingly not caring about getting the dust over her black turtleneck. “So, Stan _and_ Cyrus today! What can I help you with?”

Stan was staring at her blackboards, obviously reading them with at his usual cheetah-pace. Cyrus cleared his throat. “I, um, was wondering if you could help me with solving a problem.”

“That’s what I’m here for! Fire away, Tex’.”

“So, er, you’ve summoned stuff before, right?” Cyrus immediately regretted his choice of words.

“Is my hair pink?” She asked sarcastically. “I’m surprised you had to ask.”

“Sorry, uh – what I meant… Have you summoned something without using particulars?” He paused a beat, searching for a better way to explain himself. “I mean, without knowing exactly what it was you were summoning?”

“As long as you point your wand in the direction of the object you want to fly to you, you should just be able to say _Accio_. Need some practice?” She added with the genuine smile of someone willing to help.

“Well, I was thinking more like… I’m trying to find something, but I can’t remember what it’s called and I don’t remember where I left it last.”

Professor Flemming let out a hum, and he had the impression she was gauging just what it was he was up to. In truth, Cyrus was trying to find the last of the books Irene had “displaced”, as he had promised Audrey. He’d found one sitting on the top shelf of one of the common room’s bookcases disguised as a boring history book, but because Audrey couldn’t tell him what the titles were supposed to be, he had no way of knowing another one when he saw it if it was concealed. He’d tried choosing books that looked iffy and flipping through them, but it was a slow process and he had only so much time to look before someone caught wise to him.

“I see. Are you the _owner_ of this lost item?”

“I kind of borrowed it,” he said, trying to keep a straight face. It wasn’t _technically_ a _complete_ lie – he was going experiment on the book stashed under his mattress first, and that one had been freely sitting around in the library for _anyone_ to borrow.

He felt like her eyes were boring into his head, despite not being able to see them. “With the owner’s _knowledge_ , I presume,” she said seriously. “I’d hope so – rumor is you’re on the list of potential Prefects for next year. I’d hate to hear about you stealing from your fellow students.” Cyrus’ heart swelled at the thought of being a Prefect. He knew his behavioral record and grades were good, but it took recommendations from the professors to really solidify it. His joy must’ve worked its way onto his face, because she smirked at him. “I’d come back just to yell your ears off if you did. So, Cyrus, you ever hear of tracking charms?”

“Like the ones they put on underage wizards?” Cyrus asked, thinking about his mom explaining why he couldn’t do magic in the house if she wasn’t present.

“Yeah, that’s the kind. That particular charm enables someone else to see your location, right? Normally it’s delegated to a piece of paper and bound by something that belongs to you, like a hair or cut of your fingernail. You can do something similar the other way around, too, with divining spells. First, you take a piece of hair and attach it to a piece of paper,” Dandrane explained, moving around to her desk to start opening drawers. “You can use glue or tape or whatever, it doesn’t really matter as long as it doesn’t come off. Then, you take a lodestone, like this one,” she said, holding up a small roughly cut black rock she had pulled from the middle drawer, “and rub it onto the piece of paper. If you knew the name for what you were looking for, you could write it down there, it speeds up the process quite a bit… So, take your wand, hold it to the paper, and then say ‘By this Earth and bough of tree, find that which belongs to me.’”

Stan had paused in his analytical study of the blackboards to give the professor a curious look. “I thought spells had to be in Latin.”

“Actually, this one works in any language – that’s modern Paganism for you. _Very_ versatile,” Professor Flemming replied with a grin in Stan’s direction. “There’s thousands of spells that _aren’t_ in Latin, but I don’t teach anyone the really good ones unless they’re fifth year or higher.” She turned back to Cyrus, still beaming. “By the way, if you enchant the paper to fly, it’ll head in your object’s direction automatically.”

Cyrus quirked an eyebrow. “What happens if you don’t?”

“You’ll be walking around with a piece of paper until you start feeling it try to pull you towards the object. Letting it fly around makes it way easier.” The professor handed him the lodestone, which he took gratefully; he wasn’t sure where he could find one otherwise. “Just give it back to me by next week. And if you haven’t found what you lost by then, tell me and I’ll help you out.”

“Er, alright. Thank you, Professor.”

“You’re welcome. It’s all in a day’s work.”

 Stan seemed to have been waiting to speak up, because the second the professor had finished her sentence, he dove right into what must’ve been a burning question:  “What exactly are you researching, Professor?”

The witch’s smile didn’t waver. “Why, Mr. Kotler, I’m happy you asked. You ever see the ghost of a horse trot down the halls with its' rider?”

Stan seemed to think seriously for a moment, rubbing his chin and looking down at the floor as he usually did when trying to think far back. “Maybe when we first came here, but I don’t remember all the ghosts…”

“I met one just last week. Nice guy, but the fact that his horse existed really threw me for a loop. I’ve been looking in to the concept of familiars and trying to link it with what I know about ghosts.” Professor Flemming stood proudly, seeming to admire her notes like they were trophies. “I spent a week and a half working all this out. What do you think?”

“Um, it’s _interesting_ ,” Stan said slowly, “but… I’ve never heard of a ghost _disappearing_ before.”

“Neither have I! But I hadn’t heard of animal ghosts until a week and a half ago, either. I don’t think it’s completely unfeasible. I mean, animals don’t have any serious reason to fear death…at least on the same complex level as people. They probably don’t have fear of God or the concept of penance.”

Cyrus scanned over the blackboard notes as quickly as he could, trying to find exactly where it mentioned disappearances. _No writings of observed animal ghosts; no pictures of animal ghosts; hearsay mentions known pets but no wild animals; familiar bonds unproven and unknown amongst HH parties; muggle reports unproven, muggle stories thrive… Geez. There’s a whole section on “why people stay behind”, talk about morbid…_

The phrase “where did they go?” was underlined and followed with the words “their jobs were done”.

It was a funny way to phrase it – the kind that any scholar would scoff at – but Cyrus understood what Professor Flemming was getting at. If an animal existed as a ghost, they must’ve had a reason, like any human being; in a fantastical way, it would make sense that if their purpose was fulfilled, they would no longer be needed, and thus disappear. “It’s like a strange magical contract or something, then?”

Professor Flemming turned to him, her eyebrows raised. “…I didn’t think of phrasing it like that, but…yes. Of course it could just be the sleep deprivation catching up with me. But basically,” she started in her lecture voice as she moved to the first chalkboard, “according to everything I’ve read, familiar bonds are only established between an animal and a person after a long time, say a decade or more, and with the animals’ assistance in magic – like, providing blood or fur for potions, for example. There’s a ritual to see if they both bonded naturally, but some people have rituals to _force_ a bond to strengthen to the point where they can say they have a true familiar. I don’t _ever_ recommend those, by the way; a lot of people end up being killed by their pet in the middle of it. Anyway, at the end of the day, the lives are so entwined that if one of the pair dies, so will the other, usually within a day or so. So it makes sense for a ghostly warhorse to exist if the _rider_ chooses became a ghost, because serious life bonds just don’t get severed with so much as a how-do-ya-do. You just can’t prove that they’re really entwined, because that usually takes a few drops of blood from each party.”

“And the disappearing ones?” Stan asked.

“Ah,” the professor said with a wag of her finger, “those should only be _non_ -familiar ghosts, until proven otherwise.”

Cyrus raised a brow. “Despite no evidence they even _existed_?”

Professor Flemming drew herself up to her full height – which in three-inch heels made her even _more_ intimidating. “One person’s word might not be much for everyone else, but it’s enough for _me_. I’m going to _find_ evidence, even if I have to knock on the door of every person in the country.”

Even if he wanted to say something against that, he figured it wouldn’t get through. She seemed incredibly determined.

“Professor?” Nolan called loudly from the desks, holding up the sanding-brick in a gloved hand, “I finished sanding.”

The witch made a bee-line for him. “Oh, good, let’s see – smooth lines, seems level… Alright, Nolan, you just have to brush off the dust into the garbage and brush on the stain, and then we wait.”

“For how _long_?”

“Well, I’m going to speed up the drying, but I’d still give it twenty, thirty minutes maybe. Then you just have to apply a coat of wax. You can help organize my cabinets in the meantime.”

Nolan gave a sigh through his nostrils and threw a tired, desperate look at his friends, as if hoping they’d somehow make him less tired and whisk him away. Cyrus and Stan exchanged a quick look, both knowing they couldn't hang around a person in detention, but wanting to. They'd wait it out not too far away and be right outside the door when it came time for him to leave.

Professor Flemming put her hands on her hips. “Hey, we _all_ have things we’d rather be doing, kiddo. I’m not the one who decided to deface school property with a doodle of a _wang_. I mean, _really_ \- I’d expect that kind of thing from _Peeves_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translators note: “Nǐ shì wǒ de hǎo háizi” should be a phonetic pronunciation of “you are my good boy” in Chinese. I hope it is, or I’m deleting that translating add-on… I mean, I’m already heavily considering it, since it didn’t even tell me which dialect it was using! >:/
> 
> How come none of the Hogwarts statues are crazy scary? Like, they’re enchanted to move, and sometimes talk, but they never grow large to block paths?? Never get cursed to rampage if a threat is present?? I mean, just imagine the Battle of Hogwarts if there were stone gargoyles in all shapes and sizes facing down Death Eaters! It’s an amazing image! I liked the idea of the shii (which upon further research might not be the correct name anymore) being actual “guard dogs”, and I was glad I could work that in this time around. Also, Ghostbusters references, because Danny.
> 
> I got very attached to my fourth years. I decided a *while* ago that I like the parallel to the adults in the story and I didn’t want the kids to just *be* there, so they have a slice of story pie while finding exposition along the way! So, yes, they had a chapter section twice in a row, but next chapter is 100% focused on Peeves and Danny. It’s gonna be *reeeaaalll* good. Wink wink, nudge nudge!
> 
> Familiars weren't something I initially planned on discussing in this story (or even thinking about in relation to it), but here we are, and it’s actually relevant to Danny’s research! It’s strange that HP never really touched upon familiars in any way. I mean, I know the kid’s animal companions are meant to be a reference to witches having familiars, but they’re never written in such a way to make me believe they’re anything but pets. Also, I love how in HP they constantly use Merlin’s name for exclamations! Merlin’s pants! Merlin’s beard! By Merlin! I guess some serious Merlin fans started it and the rest of the [British] world caught on, because everyone agreed that Merlin was The Best. I don’t care if it’s canon or not, I totally think Merlin had, like, a dozen kids and grandkids and had family dinners at Hogwarts whenever he was there because he’s Merlin, damn it, if he wants to eat with his variously-housed talented children he *will*. 
> 
> As always, please tell me what you think in the comments! Your feedback helps drive me to do my very best! I love you guys!! ✧˖°ˈ·*ε-(๑˃́ε˂̀๑ )


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